Post by SHADOWLOVE on Feb 2, 2018 0:12:27 GMT
North East Okayama Prefecture On The Border Of Hyogo Prefecture, Japan, circa, towards the end of 1996 and the beginning of 1997. . .
Sometime during the the end of the epic feud between her husband, The Hollywood Blonde, and his arch-rival, Jesus Spearhead, and sometime after the swan song of their final brilliantly bloody encounter inside the Tokyo Dome back in the day. . .
A stark white stretch limousine, with a 10” lift and 38” rims and the toughest, most versatile off-road tires ever made, 38.5X14.50X15C Interco Super Swamper TSL/SX Bias-Ply tires with Vantablack mud flaps with a 3 1/2" by 2 1/4" chrome sexy cowgirl insignia and personalized license plate “Hariuddoburondo”, intertwines its way through an unknown wet soaked street in the quaint little village of Miyamoto in Mimasaka surrounded by dense wooden cherry blossom trees and traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style houses.
Inside the stark white stretch limousine, the amazing wife of The Hollywood Blonde, and mother of your future favorite and most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator, and family matriarch, Akasha, stares at herself with a fixed, almost vacant expression reflecting from the dark smoke tinted window of the limousine.
Her sleek bob of salt and pepper sheared pointed ends slicked back behind her ears and a deep middle part with gelled back fringe showing off her white-hot, fiery red-hot, brilliantly passionate grey eyes of the devil hidden behind a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses. Her very slim, classic supermodel-like figure was encased in a stark white “First Lady" style business dress and jacket with stark white stilettos designed by Versace.
The father of your soon to be future favorite and most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator and family patriarch, The Hollywood Blonde, watches their young son sleeping peacefully on a traditional tatami mat made of rice straw and bound together with a finer, softer, rush of straw on the floor of the limousine.
He, meaning the Father and not their son, was stripped to the waist, with his ribs and right shoulder wrapped in stark white medical tape, while wearing bright fluorescent unmellow yellow Karate pants spotted with crimson red colored blood with matching bright fluorescent unmellow yellow Karate boots.
His mass of long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail showing off a stark white medical bandage along the width of his forehead, ice cold blue eyes, and his world-famous lip snarl on his perfectly tanned chiseled face.
His injuries were sustained earlier that night at the hands of his arch-rival Jesus Spearhead and his shadow, not his son, but his own shadow, has cast a silhouette outline in the image of a 19th century Samurai warrior around his young son, in full regalia armor with a face mask that has been decorated with ugly features to terrify his son’s innermost and outermost personal and impersonal demons.
She senses a very powerful and very knowledgeable presence nearby as if there is a great disturbance in the space-time continuum. Her strong, ethereally supple, combination of sheer vulnerability and powerful voice in Japanese:
“ Yameru!. . .”
The stark white stretch limousine, with a 10” lift and 38” rims and the toughest, most versatile off-road tires ever made, 38.5X14.50X15C Interco Super Swamper TSL/SX Bias-Ply tires with Vantablack mud flaps with a 3 1/2" by 2 1/4" chrome sexy cowgirl insignia and personalized license plate “Hariuddoburondo”, comes to a stop down a deserted narrow, muddy street.
A Japanese chauffeur, black chauffeur hat, jet-black crew-cut hair, sunglasses, custom-made black Giorgio Armani business suit, opens the rear passenger door and she exits out the back of the limousine surrounded by no fanfare.
She walks down a cobblestone walkway surrounded by wooden cherry blossom trees towards one of the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style houses and removes her stark white stilettos one by one. And as if on cue, a shōji screen opens as she enters the main entryway and immediately closes behind her leaving her still stark white stilettos neatly and very elegantly lined up side by side outside of the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style houses front porch by the sliding shōji screen door.
Upon entering the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style house, she can hear somebody crying and gasping for breath as she is met by a very startled, panicky, alarmed, frightened and very apprehensive Japanese woman nervously pacing back and forth inside the almost barren and desolate living room.
She waits very patiently for the very startled, panicky, alarmed, frightened and apprehensive Japanese woman to find her bearings and calm down long enough to reluctantly discuss the dilemma that she found herself in and finally has no choice but to confront her problem head on. She puts her hand down to her sides and properly and traditionally bows in Akasha’s direction.
It seems that the very startled, panicky, alarmed, frightened and apprehensive Japanese woman came from very humble beginnings, she was raised in a family of hard working farmers when she met her very rich and respected husband. Her parents-in-law treated their son’s “bride” as if she was a very menial second class citizen even after giving birth to their granddaughter. In their eyes, it would seem that the sins of the daughter outweighs the sins of the mother when it comes to the public perception of the family's standing within the community. Her husband under this public scrutiny began displaying violent behavior privately behind closed doors by becoming both mentally and physically abusive from all the drinking and debt incurred from his gambling. He has threatened to sell their young daughter into child slavery in order to get out from under all the debt that he occurred while gambling under Chinese Triad House Rules. She was at her wits end and had nowhere else to turn with her and her daughter's situation becoming more and more intense every waking hour, every waking minute, and every waking second when trying to find the right solution to remedy her and her young daughter's situation.
The very startled, panicky, alarmed, frightened and apprehensive Japanese woman started to feel more and more at ease by the mere presence of Akasha and that made her feel like the happiest and luckiest person the face of the Earth.
Akasha took this opportunity to take the very startled, panicky, alarmed, frightened and apprehensive Japanese woman into a very warm and caring embrace after hearing her story and quietly whispers into her ear, very calmly and very reassuringly in Japanese, “ Watashi wa dare mo kore made dōri ni naru koto o yakusoku shi, hoshō shimasen. Anata to anata no musume ni mōichido te o oite kudasai. . .”
Upon hearing the words, “ I promise and guarantee that no one will ever, and I mean never ever, lay one hand on you and your daughter ever again.” spoken by Akasha in Japanese, those two salty looking Japanese dudes, both sporting jet-black crew-cut hair, sunglasses, custom-made black Giorgio Armani business suits, appear out of nowhere and stand in an on guard, very protective, ever vigilant attack formation around Akasha and the very frightened and apprehensive Japanese woman.
With her body language speaking more volume than her words to the two salty looking Japanese dudes, they exit the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style house to make the very frightened and very apprehensive Japanese woman’s problems simply disappear as an act of reciprocity on the code of jingi, justice and duty, and the code of giri, burden of obligation, by placing any and all of her burdens of debt related to any retaliation by the Chinese Triad solely on the doorstep of none other than The Hariuddoburondo Conglomerate.
A shōji screen opens revealing a very young and little Japanese girl as she enters the almost barren and desolate living room and immediately closes behind her. She was dressed in, ironically, only a faded and torn oversized psychedelic The Hollywood Blonde and Akasha tee shirt worn like an impromptu frock that was just long enough to resemble a traditional mini dress. Her sleek raven black hair was parted in the middle showing off her angelic face with her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes. Her not quite yet luscious and alluring lips had that right to remain silent scowl look to them. Her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes remained focused on her mother as she walked with quiet determination to her mother's side, hiding partially behind her as she turned her focus towards Akasha.
Akasha was mesmerised and hypnotized by the very young little Japanese girl’s very captivating beauty that she quietly thought to herself that she could transform this young little Japanese girl into a very lethal femme fatale temptress.
In response to the act of reciprocity for the code of jingi, justice and duty, and the code of giri, burden of obligation, of this very, very interesting business arrangement with Akasha and The Hariuddoburondo Conglomerate, the young little Japanese girl’s mother agrees to let Akasha train her young daughter in international business etiquette and diplomatic protocol by transforming her young daughter into a very mysterious and seductive woman whose allure and charm will ensnare both men and women, often leading them into very compromising, very dangerous, and very deadly situations.
Akasha crouches down and meets the young little Japanese girl face to face. She lowers her Ray-Ban sunglasses showing the young little Japanese girl her white-hot, fiery red-hot, brilliantly passionate grey eyes of the devil. The little Japanese girl’s intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes met her occidental grey eyes in a way that showed a fondness for causing trouble in a very playful way.
“ Anata no namae wa nanidesu ka?. . .”
The young little Japanese girl comes out from hiding behind her mother with quiet confidence and removes Akasha’s Ray-Ban sunglasses and places them on her angelic looking face hiding her intoxicatingly incandescent almond shaped green eyes and runs her fingers along Akasha’s chin, her not yet luscious and alluring lips barely touching the older woman’s cheek and reaches her ear and whispers her name. The young little Japanese girl’s name is. . .
Meanwhile, back in the stark white stretch limousine. . .
Your soon to be future favorite and most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator, “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove, begins to stir from his peaceful sleep as if waking up from a very nightmarish dream.
He rolls over on the traditional tatami mat made of rice straw and bound together with a finer, softer, rush of straw, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He runs his fingers through his not yet classic masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair, and raises his head showing off his chiseled babyface with an ice cold stare which radiants from his very sparkling blue eyes.
His very sparkling blue eyes focusing on the silhouette outline in the image of a 19th century Samurai warrior around him, in full regalia armor with a face mask that has been decorated with ugly features to terrify his innermost and outermost personal and impersonal demons.
His not yet patented malevolent, tight wolfish cub, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a “My shadowy senses are tingling sensing a very powerful and very knowledgeable presence of a lean, graceful, sensuous, and simply ravishing femme fatale temptress of a 21st century female Samurai warrior gracing my presence in the very near future with a sweet as honey, harmoniously hypnotizing, smooth as silk, smoky voice radiating through her very luscious and alluring lips, and together, we will make blood flow as we storm a kingdom’s castle with pitchforks in hand raising hell in the seventh veil” shit-eating grin. His not yet low dusky voice rings out fully, with all the charm and charisma that one can muster, mister:
“ Fuck, me. . .”
North East Okayama Prefecture On The Border Of Hyogo Prefecture, Japan, Present Day, 2018. . .
The following takes place sometime after suffering his second straight loss after losing to Andre Aquarius in a Trü Grit match three weeks ago on Monday Bloody Monday and missing this organization's next Monday Bloody Monday and first Pay-Per-View for personal reasons, sometime before the events of this week's tag-team match with Corey Bull against Bonnie Blue and L Verez, and occur in real time sometime during the events of this week’s first NBW Monday Bloody Monday inside The Hariuddoburondo Ryū Dōjō around the midnight hour. . .
The sound inside The Hariuddoburondo Ryū Dōjō was akin to the sun rising in the East and the sun setting in the West and resulting in a cutting-edge silent lucidity that was threatening, overpowering, and yet having a sense of subdued tranquility as a very hypnotizing and very rhythmic heart beating of a very formal, very ceremonial, and very traditional TAIKO DRUMS was forming a sense of life throughout the Ryū Dōjō.
Somewhere in the deep dark recesses of the mind’s eye, you begin to wonder if you ever existed at all or was this all just a some kind of Twilight Zone-esque dream concocted by your own conscious, subconscious mind.
Upon hearing very hypnotizing and very rhythmic heart beating of a very formal, very ceremonial, and very traditional TAIKO DRUMS, your favorite and most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator, “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove, begins to stir from his peaceful sleep as if waking up from having some extra, extra, special, special, hot and steamy sexy, sexy, extracurricular activities.
The antechamber itself was void of all the aesthetics nuances that you, the viewing audience, were accustomed to seeing from "The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove and his sweet and lovely Miyamoto. The entire antechamber was covered entirely in the highest degree of reflective metallic silver mirroring except for the traditional tatami mat flooring made of rice straw and bound together with a finer, softer, rush of straw and the most eye-catchingly expensive and luxurious magnetic floating memory foam bed molding to the shape of an individual's body hovering above the traditional tatami mat flooring in the center of the room.
His muscular body was molded into the eye-catchingly expensive and luxurious magnetic floating memory foam bed. His head resting on a couple of hypoallergenic goose down and goose feather pillows with his hands interlocked in his classic masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair behind his head showing off his fighter's face with an ice cold stare radiating from his sparkling blue eyes. He was covered from the waist down with a Charlotte Thomas Bed Sheet made of high quality Merino wool fabric that was woven with small amounts of gold carat and silk jacquard ensuring a most comfortable and peaceful sleep while showing off the upper body of a Greek God, with a muscular chest and washboard abs.
His heart rate was a very relaxed 40 beats a minute as the oxygen in his blood helped the preternatural powers of his mind’s eye remain focused and alert to the surroundings around him. He seems to be enjoying the quiet, silent lucidity escapism from the rigmaroles of everyday life in New Blood Wrestling.
His low dusky voice rings out fully, with all the charm and charisma that one can muster, mister and gets down to the business of Monday Bloody Monday as he starts painting his masterpiece:
“ Fuck, me. . .”
He begins sliding out of luxurious magnetic floating memory foam bed hovering over the traditional tatami mat flooring in the center of the room, well like a snake, creating locomotion through side-to-side movement and rectilinear progression, which allows him to seamlessly walk on his ribcage in what appears to be an optical illusion, and sits upright on the side of luxurious magnetic floating memory foam bed with his bare feet levitating a couple of feet over the traditional tatami mat flooring in the center of the room.
He rocks both his legs from the knee down and jumps down from the side of luxurious magnetic floating memory foam bed, hovering for a second in mid-air like he was Neo in The Matrix, and sticks the two foot landing like an Olympic gymnast on the traditional tatami mat flooring then starts performing a set of 10 standard push-ups, a set of 10 one armed push-ups alternating touching his left hand on his right knee and right hand on his left knee, and finishing off with a set of 10 handstand push-ups and pops back up to his feet and sticks the landing. Scoring perfect 10’s from the judges, except for the Russian judge who gives him a score of 9.9, if you're scoring at home.
Suddenly, for some very odd reason, in a KRAMER style move; twirling twice and performing a 7.3 on the Richter scale triple take as if coming through a door, he notices his reflection out of the corner of his sparkling blue eyes and poses naturally “Full Monty” style in a very calm, relaxed, mellow fashion in front of one of the sheets of the highly reflective metallic silver mirroring, just long enough for the viewing audience watching at home to hit their record button on their DVRs in order to save the image of a perfect specimen for prosperity.
Woosh!. . .
The first 32” Vantablack carbon fiber Makiwaraya arrow with razor-sharp shita-kitae triple-bladed broadhead flies through one of the sheets of the highly reflective metallic silver mirroring towards him clockwise at 335 feet per second when he catches the arrow with his right hand.
Woosh!. . .
Before he even has a chance to regain his senses, the second Vantablack carbon fiber Makiwaraya arrow with razor-sharp shita-kitae triple-bladed broadhead flies through the same sheet of the highly reflective metallic silver mirroring towards him counterclockwise at 335 feet per second when he catches the arrow with his left hand.
Woosh!. . .
The third 32” Vantablack carbon fiber Makiwaraya arrow with razor-sharp shita-kitae triple-bladed broadhead flies towards him in a mysterious clockwise and counterclockwise left and right handed twist at 335 feet per second when he turns his head at the very last second in the nick-of-time as he walks through the now open same sheet of the highly reflective metallic silver mirroring.
He turns his head back around and glares at his sweet and lovely Miyamoto with the third Vantablack carbon fiber Makiwaraya arrow with razor-sharp shita-kitae triple-bladed broadhead caught between his perfectly white even teeth.
His patented malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth on his chiseled fighter's face in a “ That's why they call me, The Face Of The Franchise, The Whole ‘F'N’ Show, Mr. NBW, or whatever expletive that you want to put in front of my name whiplash smile that just charms the hell out of everyone in this organization” flamboyant, stylistic supermodel deus ex machina shit-eating grin.
She was holding a Yumi Bow, known as Kyudo, or "Way of the Bow", in her right hand, with her right foot pointing down range in a shooting stance towards him. Her feet were shoulder length apart and squared in a shooter's stance on the cast iron balustrade of the indoor grand balcony of the Ryū Dōjō.
Her raven black hair was pulled back in a French braid showing off her angelic looking face with her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes hidden behind a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses strategically placed on her perfectly flawless nose as she made no movement whatsoever, controlling her breathing, bow string pulled back taut left handed with a fourth 32” Vantablack carbon fiber Makiwaraya red turkey feather arrow with razor-sharp shita-kitae triple-bladed broadhead aimed at his heart.
Her attractively well-proportioned, slim, trim, toned body built for sin was encased in the most iconic Black Montsuki & Forest Green Seven Deep-pleated Hakama, the pleats are said to be representative of the seven virtues of Bushidō, considered essential to the samurai way. She was also barefoot with the exception for the stark white tape wrapped around her feet and ankles.
Kyudo places as much emphasis on spiritual and moral development as it does accuracy and skill. It is a very serious discipline, drawing from the ancient Samurai traditions.
“ Nyet!. . .”
The Infamous Superstar's Mother, Akasha’s strong, ethereally supple in a combination of sheer vulnerability and electrifying powerful voice echoes off the stone walls of the Ryū Dōjō.
His sweet and lovely Miyamoto had what appears to be a red crimson red silk sash strategically wrapped around her waist and leg leading up to the ceiling of the Ryū Dōjō as she uses Bushidō catlike precision showing off her grace and flexibility in a Cirque du Soleil-inspired acrobatic stylistic and breathtakingly stunning, twisting and turning, aerial dance off the the cast iron balustrade of the indoor grand balcony and sticks the landing in the center of the tatami floor below as if nothing has happened and stands there looking at him up and down with her arms crossed over her chest.
Her sweet as honey, harmoniously hypnotizing, smooth as silk, smoky voice radiating through her very luscious and very alluring lips:
“ Put your shorts back on, cowboy, we’re not quite finished here just yet, my love. . .”
A porcelain skinned Geisha wearing a Shimada-styled nihongami wig and a formal black kimono, with her obi tied in the taiko style, enters the Ryū Dōjō carrying a polished wooden serving tray with a pair of neatly folded custom-made Calvin Klein crocodile skinned workout shorts and quietly makes her way towards him. She traditionally, formally, ceremonially bows towards him with her arms down at her sides while still holding the polished wooden serving tray and offers him the pair of neatly folded custom-made Calvin Klein crocodile skinned workout shorts.
He places the three 32” Vantablack carbon fiber Makiwaraya red turkey feather arrow with razor-sharp shita-kitae triple-bladed broadhead onto the polished wooden serving tray in exchange for the neatly folded custom-made Calvin Klein crocodile skinned workout shorts and slips into the workout shorts by jumping into them as the Geisha appears to blush under her porcelain skin and quickly disappears back into the darkness of the Ryū Dōjō.
“ And yet you all will say, why shouldn't the son suffer for the iniquity of the father? Since the son has done what is just and right and has been careful to observe all his statutes, so that he shall surely live. The soul who sins is the one who shall die. The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father, nor the father suffer for the iniquity of the son. The righteousness of the righteous shall be credited to them, and the wickedness of the wicked will be charged against them. . ."
Another porcelain skinned Geisha wearing a Shimada-styled nihongami wig and a formal black kimono, with her obi tied in the taiko style, enters the Ryū Dōjō and quietly makes her way towards the simply ravishing femme fatale temptress and traditionally, formally, ceremonially bows towards her with her arms down at her sides as the sweet and lovely Miyamoto saluds Ezekiel 18:19-20. She hands over the Yumi Bow and the fourth 32” Vantablack carbon fiber Makiwaraya arrow with razor-sharp shita-kitae triple-bladed broadhead to her and the Geisha quickly disappears back into the darkness of the Ryū Dōjō.
“ You have two straight losses in this Trü Grit division, my love, and I must say, that is most impressive especially since you pryde yourself on being the silver-tongued devil that draws just as much fan applause and just as much fan heat equally from everyone in this organization like your reputation has been known for doing in the sports entertainment business. When your father passed down the knowledge and the wisdom of the family's legacy, his only warning that he enlightened you with was that you would either simply crash and burn by never coming close to his win or lose, just booze philosophy or you would defy the creative criticism of having the odds against you and your future looking grim and rise up from your shadowy grave and into the light above the clouds in order to eclipse your own reputation. . .”
He sits Indian-style, the wagon burning way and not the taxi driving way, making no physical movement in the seven-point meditation posture with a stillness of serene authority, most prized by the Japanese, in the center of the padded tatami floor under the star light, star brightness of the moonlight cascading down through the octagon shaped atrium.
“ My very existence in this organization and the sports entertainment business is one of the greatest fears of conscious, subconscious knowledge of one's own character’s emotional state, rationale, aspiration, and fountain of youthful eternal exuberance known to both man and woman. It is this self-destructive, self-righteous indignation and self-righteous indulgences of self-awareness that gives me great pleasure and even greater pain in knowing that without my parent’s blood flowing through my veins with the power, the knowledge, and the wisdom of my condescending confidence and antagonistic arrogance and ruthlessly manipulative and unscrupulous influential psychological mindset toughness outside of the squared-circle and an all-around, well-balanced physiological skillset toughness inside of the squared-circle while oozing God-given laissez-faire attitude and Hollywood Blockbuster Superstar Fashion Model Machismo, the NBW cannot and will not exist without the existence of my very own legacy. . .”
She starts twirling his classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair through her fingers with carnal fascination and malignant pleasure.
“ My love, New Blood Wrestling would still exist without your presence but would only exist in a state of mediocrity. Look where that second-rate organization with third-rate talent currently resides in a status quo state of flux without your presence after WAR XVI and just look how infinitively united our former organization became after choosing to file for bankruptcy under a bailout after you defeated Kevin Bishop-san and sent UCI World Heavyweight Champion Preecha Kamon-san into hiding. . .”
She runs her fingers seductively along his chiseled chin and raises his head so that her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes meets his occidental sparkling blue eyes in a way that showed a fondness for causing trouble in a very playful way.
“ These two straight losses of yours in the Trü Grit division are very meaningless in the grand scheme of things here in New Blood Wrestling. The NBW Hierarchy, every velveteen wrestler behind the curtain in the back, and the NBW Fandom have been easily tricked and taunted into complacency when thinking that your defeat to the likes of Masutarōu-san and Andre Aquarius-san are two of the greatest victories in the history of this organization. Especially, since they are simply just one of many people in this organization that would sell their souls and their families out for the simple economics of gold. . .”
Her very luscious and very alluring lips barely touching his chiseled dimpled cheek as they reach his lips. You can almost feel an aura of seductively handsome cold-hearted psychopathic electricity between the two as they become one with their warm, loving, passionate kiss.
“ Their excessive pryde of self-confidence in search of this gold will take its toll when they have given their all to show you their best inside and outside of the squared-circle when hoping that their best is willing and able to deal you a very, very humbling experience in the hopes of walking in your shadow but only to lose because they are simply just one of many people in this organization that already took the bait. Your stoic patience and quiet confidence is second-to-none when knowing that with or without the little trinkets of gold around your waist you have already won and are already savoring your, your ultimate victory over all the people that are out to get you, because in the end, they will hate themselves for loving you as one of the new and improved central foundational cornerstones in the birth, growth, development, and preservation of New Blood Wrestling. . .”
There was that extra special something, something about hearing her silky, smoky voice radiating through her very luscious and very alluring lips after their warm, loving, passionate kiss as she once again starts twirling his classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair through her fingers with carnal fascination and malignant pleasure that sends chills through him and soothes his mind, body, heart, and soul knowing that she was all business.
“ For some very odd reason, I haven't really been myself lately. I've never been one that has ever had to conform to any one stylistic gimmicky aspect of the sports entertainment business, and yet, Vincent Pryde overhears one off the cuff remark I make about naming the Trü Grit division and then tries to sentence me into obscurity thinking that I somehow need that Trü Grit Championship around my waist. Then he thinks that putting me in the squared-circle with some no-talent hacks like Gray Zee and Kendrick Kross was supposed to even come close to appeasing my sense of style. Not on our watch, my friend. Did that match even post any kind of buy rate for SyFy without me actually being in the squared-circle even though my name was on the marquee? And will missing this organization's first Pay-Per-View for personal reasons really have any kind of special effective affective impact on my career going forward?. . .”
She lowers her Ray-Ban sunglasses down her perfectly flawless nose on her angelic looking face showing off her intoxicating and incandescent almond shaped green eyes of a Goddess of the Rising Sun and a 21st century female samurai warrior known for her bravery and strength and looks through the camera and at Bonnie Blue and L Verez watching at home while waving her index finger in a “No, no, no, no ma’am, the rumors of his demise have been greatly appreciated and greatly exaggerated.”
“ My love already has the fame, the fortune, and the notoriety coming from all the rhetoric being spewed from these bigger-than-life personalities, these dames to kill for, and these butt ugly stranger than strange imaginary monsters that New Blood Wrestling is known for in the sports entertainment business to last you for a lifetime. Bonnie Blue and L Verez think that they know your true nature better than anyone else in this organization but even they will flounder around like dead fish not knowing how to handle your mastery, your shrewdness, your competence, your influence, and your manipulation that you have always had over weak-minded individuals that have misunderstood, miscalculated, and underestimated your aesthetic seductive handsomeness that defines your family's time-honored traditional legacy in the sports entertainment business. . .”
He runs his fingers through his his classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair making his hair perfect, down his neck, over his muscular chest and washboard abs then flicks fake beads of sweat in the direction of Bonnie Blue and L Verez making them wet with his money shot while watching at home.
“ Who better for Vincent Pryde to chose to protect his precious new World Heavyweight Champion Corey Bull and his total dislike of, contempt for, or ingrained prejudice against Bonnie Blue and L Verez then the one man that will take his precious Champion’s Championship any given Monday than yours truly? Pryde can objectify and degrade Bonnie Blue and L Verez talent all that he wants but the NBW Hierarchy, every velveteen wrestler behind the curtain in the back, and the NBW Fandom knows that they both have built quite the iconic brand of bra-burning in the sports entertainment business as a means of calling attention to the traditional story of man versus women, especially one concerning the early history of women in the squared-circle as a means of explaining some supernatural phenomenon. . .”
A porcelain skinned Geisha wearing a Shimada-styled nihongami wig and a formal black kimonos, with her obi tied in the taiko style, enters the Ryū Dōjō carrying a polished wooden serving tray with ice cold sweet tea poured into an earthen cup, an ice cold coconut water poured into a coconut with a little pink umbrella, and a rolled up copy of the Wall St. Journal and traditionally, formally, ceremonially bows towards them with her arms down at her sides and offers them the contents of the polished wooden service tray.
“ They both seem to be taking the backstage politicking just a tad bit too seriously. Bonnie Blue has always been fighting her innermost demons in order to protect herself from people like Vincent Pryde-san while still insisting that she is representative of the new era of NBW Hierarchy, every velveteen wrestler behind the curtain in the back, and the NBW Fandom. And L Verez is representative of every contradiction in terms in this organization when believing that she bonds together this new era of NBW Hierarchy, every velveteen wrestler behind the curtain in the back, and the NBW Fandom with her propaganda about being some kind of true Champion in the sports entertainment business. . .”
He removes the ice cold coconut water poured into a coconut with a little pink umbrella offering from the porcelain skinned Geisha, that is a rich source of potassium, manganese, magnesium, folate, calcium,selenium and is very beneficial to his muscular body of a Greek God, and takes a sip with his pinky finger sticking out.
“ The space-time continuum is filled with badass freakarellas like L Verez who have populated the sports entertainment business with natural and well-crafted ambiguousness inside and outside of the squared-circle. Her coupling of femininity and masculinity for the sake of transparency seems like a dream for some and seems like a nightmare for others, but in the end, her command-control-communication-intelligence codex is just as flawed as Bonnie Blue’s bacterial petri dish. She became the UCI Hypermedia Champion for one reason and one reason only. I used my undue influence and manipulation to goad Corey Black into facing her in a rematch when he refused to face her once again in the squared-circle. And after that victory over Corey Black, was she really on her way to becoming the UCI World Heavyweight Champion?. . .”
She sees him taking a sip of ice cold coconut water poured into a coconut with a little pink umbrella without earning that privilege and with Bushidō catlike precision removes the rolled up copy of the Wall St. Journal and strategically slices the coconut out of his hand like a razor-sharp shita-kitae blade from a dragon-headed handled katana with the craftsmanship of a professional plastic surgeon without leaving a mark and places the rolled up copy of the Wall St. Journal back onto the polished wooden service tray as if nothing has happened. The porcelain skinned Geisha traditionally, formally, ceremonially bows towards them with her arms down at her sides and quickly disappears back into the darkness of the Ryū Dōjō.
“ Nope, L Verez, you became a glorified gimmicky novelty Champion and nothing more. Once you won this, this glorified gimmicky novelty Hypermedia Championship, you simply walked away from that glorified gimmicky novelty Championship simply because you couldn’t handle the pressures of being a glorified gimmicky novelty Champion. And once you did that, the incorruptible L Verez became the corrupted and your moral compass ceased to be the primary representative of what endearment value you had as a true Champion inside and outside of the squared-circle. My love has never rested on any of his laurels once we’ve achieved a sufficient comfort level in the sports entertainment business. He has never taken great efforts or strides into gaining the acceptance of whichever organization, whichever fellow wrestlers, or whichever fan base is representative in order to earn their honor and to earn their respect as one of the hardest working individuals in the sports entertainment business in the eyes of the world. That is how you, L Verez, conquer the world. . .”
“PERSONAL JESUS” by Depeche Mode starts to play on the Bose® (product placement) SoundTouch® (product placement) indoor/outdoor surround sound system:
He runs his fingers through his his classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair making his hair perfect, then rises up like a phoenix from a burning flame, and in super slow motion raises his arms up and straight out to his sides and bows his head, as if, being crucified on a cross. And on the third day, Jesus wept because the Gods definitely must be going crazy today.
“ New Blood Wrestling is a very complex and ever changing landscape that sometimes requires restraint and sometimes decisive action. And sometimes, just sometimes we have to act decisively in order to break away from the past Bonnie Blue. There are certain individuals that have threatened my life and have threatened my professional wrestling and professional modeling careers and have failed miserably with their plague of stupidity. But you, Bonnie Blue, came the closest to achieving that ultimate dream of the NBW Hierarchy, every velveteen wrestler behind the curtain in the back, and the NBW Fandom by ending my life and my professional wrestling and professional modeling careers when you sent me crashing through a crystal glass table back in the day. . .”
She seems to mysteriously be conjuring up a mystical spell over him just by her mere presence as she takes her proper place cradling against his muscular body and moving very little, never turning her head, or revealing any kind of expression that gives the viewing audience at home a clue as to her innermost thoughts with the exception of a very sharp and penetrating affection and devilishly delicious, malevolent and pleasurable, mischievously smile coming from her very luscious and very alluring lips while caressing his muscular chest with her fingers.
“ But unfortunately for you, Bonnie Blue, even the heroine of the sports entertainment business, The Daughter of Time, ran out of time and failed. You defeated him, you hit him with your best shot, and he survived to die another day. Your underlying, threatening, idle threats that are supposed to be acts of intimidation and motivation will only serve notice as an act of laughable seditious insurgency that will only bring out your jealousy, your insecurities, and will serve notice that his aesthetic seductively handsome pandemic has dangerously and unpleasantly infested into the very psyche of both L Verez and yourselves rebellious nature in an very infectious way by showing that the louder you both protest and the louder that your underlying, threatening, idle threats are towards him, your most delicately complex rebellious nature of intimidation and motivation will simply just become merely meaningless words only be to be found etched and sketched on his tombstone. . .”
His stomach starts to growl thinking about having cheese and pepperoni on his Tombstone since this self-destructive, so-called, self-proclaimed seditious insurgency means nothing to him and his sweet and lovely Miyamoto in the grand scheme of things here in New Blood Wrestling.
“ As one of the only eye-catching motivational smoke-and-mirror private contracting opportunists left in the squared-circle of New Blood Wrestling and the sports entertainment business, I have been subjected to hatred and contempt as a result of many of my numerously despicable acts and numerous blameworthy circumstances that have been accompanied by loathing or contempt throughout both my professional wrestling and professional modeling careers. And yet, wherever I may roam, people have always turned to me to lead their flock to the promised land of the sports entertainment business. The NBW Hierarchy, every velveteen wrestler behind the curtain in the back, and the NBW Fandom are no different, they know that I am the only wrestler that can walk both in the spotlight and in the shadows of both good and evil and unite them for one very simple goal within this organization. . .”
Two porcelain skinned Geishas wearing a Shimada-styled nihongami wig and a formal black kimono, with her obi tied in the taiko style, enters the Ryū Dōjō and quietly makes her way towards the simply ravishing femme fatale temptress and traditionally, formally, ceremonially bows towards her with her arms down at her sides as the sweet and lovely Miyamoto starts removing her most iconic Black Montsuki & Forest Green Seven Deep-pleated Hakama off her attractively well-proportioned, slim, trim, toned body built for sin.
“ This organization's descent into lawlessness pandemonium begins on Monday Bloody Monday, when NBW Hierarchy, every velveteen wrestler behind the curtain in the back, and the NBW Fandom’s The Face Of The Franchise, The Whole F’N Show, Mr. NBW, or whatever expletive that everyone in New Blood Wrestling wants to put in front of his name removes Vincent Pryde’s chains that bind when trying to keep him under control by becoming one of the new and improved central foundational cornerstones in the birth, growth, development, and preservation of New Blood Wrestling just by the mere presence of being the silver-tongued devil that draws just as much fan applause and just as much fan heat equally from everyone in this organization like his reputation has been known for doing in the sports entertainment business. . .”
For some very odd reason, he loses his train of thought as he seems to be in a somewhat hypnotizing trance watching his sweet and lovely Miyamoto's attractively well-proportioned, slim, trim, toned body built for sin shimmying and shaking her way out of her most iconic Vantablack Montsuki & Forest Green Seven Deep-pleated Hakama, as the Vantablack and Forest Green swirls intertwining around her as if the Montsuki & Hakama were the eye of a great dark whirlpool.
He can see why there are many people throughout the world that fears his sweet and lovely Miyamoto more than him, she really has grown into quite an amazing woman with a particular intensive well-trained set of skills in international business etiquette and diplomatic protocol to go along with her excellent mixture of hand-to-hand combative martial arts that transforms her into very mysterious and seductive femme fatale temptress whose allure and charm will ensnare both men and women, often leading them into very, very, very compromising, very, very, very dangerous, and very, very, very deadly situations.
Her attractively well-proportioned, slim, trim, toned body built for sin was encased in a form-fitting Stark White Under Armour: Armour Bra 2.0 Maximum Control Wire-Free Sports Bra with Vantablack Black Sequin Karate pants. She was barefoot with stark white tape wrapped around her feet and ankles and Vantablack tape wrapped around her hands like a mixed martial artist. Once finished, the two porcelain skinned Geishas traditionally, formally, ceremonially bows towards her with their arms down at her sides and quickly disappears back into the darkness of the Ryū Dōjō.
“ February 5, 2018: "The Daughter of Time" Bonnie Blue & "Not Of This World" L Verez vs. "The Hatebringer" Corey Bull & "The Handsome Half-breed" Shadowlove, Tag-team Main Event Match, Madison Square Garden are one of those rare matches in the sports entertainment business where their reputation alone from everyone involved writes their own hype and headlines that will shake, rattle, and roll the very foundation of New Blood Wrestling for years to come. Corey Bull, I have successfully and unsuccessfully teamed with the most eccentric and eclectic group of individuals throughout my career, names such as Bonnie Blue, David Sanchez, Wentworth Updegraff Jr., Ryan Jones, and Casey Holliday and the one thing, other than being former Champions, that you have in common with them is that win or lose, I have never been the one tag-team partner in a tag-team match that has ever had my shoulders pinned or had to tap-out in the squared-circle. Brooke Bell and Travis McKenna all you two have to do is sit back like everyone else in this organization and enjoy the show. Because as you can see, we have moved away from pursuing naïve unrealistic ideals and more into pursuing the most effectively truthful meaning in terms of becoming the most successful World Heavyweight Champion of all-time in New Blood Wrestling. . .”
He slowly raises his head in super slow motion and double raises an eyebrows with an ice cold psychopathic stare radiants from his sparkling blue eyes as his patented malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth on his chiseled fighter's face in a “ I have the one thing that every man, woman, and child fears, my sweet and lovely Miyamoto. And I will take you to the one place that everyone fears and deliver upon you, The Dark Gift. You see, The Dark Gift isn't like any other finisher in the sports entertainment business. Oh, no, some people need a handful of finishers in order just to survive like Bonnie Blue, L Verez, and even Corey Bull, Brooke Bell, and Travis McKenna. But why, when all you only need is just ONE. ONE to defeat Bonnie Blue, L Verez, and even Corey Bull, Brooke Bell, and Travis McKenna. The Dark Gift is that living, breathing omnipotence, omnipresence, omniscience and truly ostentatious indulgence when it takes on a life of its own and simply ends Bonnie Blue, L Verez, and even Corey Bull, Brooke Bell, and Travis McKenna just like you never even existed on Monday Bloody Monday” Jake The Snake Roberts flamboyant, stylistic supermodel deus ex machina, shit-eating grin.
She pauses. Then. . .
She looks at the viewing audience at home with her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes and showing no emotion on her angelic looking face then slices her own throat from her left carotid artery to her right carotid artery with her right index finger and makes an imaginary blood explosion style gesture with her left hand.
Then. . .
She raises her Ray-Ban sunglasses up her perfectly flawless nose on her angelic looking face while hiding her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes with her middle finger.
Sometime during the the end of the epic feud between her husband, The Hollywood Blonde, and his arch-rival, Jesus Spearhead, and sometime after the swan song of their final brilliantly bloody encounter inside the Tokyo Dome back in the day. . .
A stark white stretch limousine, with a 10” lift and 38” rims and the toughest, most versatile off-road tires ever made, 38.5X14.50X15C Interco Super Swamper TSL/SX Bias-Ply tires with Vantablack mud flaps with a 3 1/2" by 2 1/4" chrome sexy cowgirl insignia and personalized license plate “Hariuddoburondo”, intertwines its way through an unknown wet soaked street in the quaint little village of Miyamoto in Mimasaka surrounded by dense wooden cherry blossom trees and traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style houses.
Inside the stark white stretch limousine, the amazing wife of The Hollywood Blonde, and mother of your future favorite and most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator, and family matriarch, Akasha, stares at herself with a fixed, almost vacant expression reflecting from the dark smoke tinted window of the limousine.
Her sleek bob of salt and pepper sheared pointed ends slicked back behind her ears and a deep middle part with gelled back fringe showing off her white-hot, fiery red-hot, brilliantly passionate grey eyes of the devil hidden behind a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses. Her very slim, classic supermodel-like figure was encased in a stark white “First Lady" style business dress and jacket with stark white stilettos designed by Versace.
The father of your soon to be future favorite and most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator and family patriarch, The Hollywood Blonde, watches their young son sleeping peacefully on a traditional tatami mat made of rice straw and bound together with a finer, softer, rush of straw on the floor of the limousine.
He, meaning the Father and not their son, was stripped to the waist, with his ribs and right shoulder wrapped in stark white medical tape, while wearing bright fluorescent unmellow yellow Karate pants spotted with crimson red colored blood with matching bright fluorescent unmellow yellow Karate boots.
His mass of long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail showing off a stark white medical bandage along the width of his forehead, ice cold blue eyes, and his world-famous lip snarl on his perfectly tanned chiseled face.
His injuries were sustained earlier that night at the hands of his arch-rival Jesus Spearhead and his shadow, not his son, but his own shadow, has cast a silhouette outline in the image of a 19th century Samurai warrior around his young son, in full regalia armor with a face mask that has been decorated with ugly features to terrify his son’s innermost and outermost personal and impersonal demons.
She senses a very powerful and very knowledgeable presence nearby as if there is a great disturbance in the space-time continuum. Her strong, ethereally supple, combination of sheer vulnerability and powerful voice in Japanese:
“ Yameru!. . .”
The stark white stretch limousine, with a 10” lift and 38” rims and the toughest, most versatile off-road tires ever made, 38.5X14.50X15C Interco Super Swamper TSL/SX Bias-Ply tires with Vantablack mud flaps with a 3 1/2" by 2 1/4" chrome sexy cowgirl insignia and personalized license plate “Hariuddoburondo”, comes to a stop down a deserted narrow, muddy street.
A Japanese chauffeur, black chauffeur hat, jet-black crew-cut hair, sunglasses, custom-made black Giorgio Armani business suit, opens the rear passenger door and she exits out the back of the limousine surrounded by no fanfare.
She walks down a cobblestone walkway surrounded by wooden cherry blossom trees towards one of the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style houses and removes her stark white stilettos one by one. And as if on cue, a shōji screen opens as she enters the main entryway and immediately closes behind her leaving her still stark white stilettos neatly and very elegantly lined up side by side outside of the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style houses front porch by the sliding shōji screen door.
Upon entering the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style house, she can hear somebody crying and gasping for breath as she is met by a very startled, panicky, alarmed, frightened and very apprehensive Japanese woman nervously pacing back and forth inside the almost barren and desolate living room.
She waits very patiently for the very startled, panicky, alarmed, frightened and apprehensive Japanese woman to find her bearings and calm down long enough to reluctantly discuss the dilemma that she found herself in and finally has no choice but to confront her problem head on. She puts her hand down to her sides and properly and traditionally bows in Akasha’s direction.
It seems that the very startled, panicky, alarmed, frightened and apprehensive Japanese woman came from very humble beginnings, she was raised in a family of hard working farmers when she met her very rich and respected husband. Her parents-in-law treated their son’s “bride” as if she was a very menial second class citizen even after giving birth to their granddaughter. In their eyes, it would seem that the sins of the daughter outweighs the sins of the mother when it comes to the public perception of the family's standing within the community. Her husband under this public scrutiny began displaying violent behavior privately behind closed doors by becoming both mentally and physically abusive from all the drinking and debt incurred from his gambling. He has threatened to sell their young daughter into child slavery in order to get out from under all the debt that he occurred while gambling under Chinese Triad House Rules. She was at her wits end and had nowhere else to turn with her and her daughter's situation becoming more and more intense every waking hour, every waking minute, and every waking second when trying to find the right solution to remedy her and her young daughter's situation.
The very startled, panicky, alarmed, frightened and apprehensive Japanese woman started to feel more and more at ease by the mere presence of Akasha and that made her feel like the happiest and luckiest person the face of the Earth.
Akasha took this opportunity to take the very startled, panicky, alarmed, frightened and apprehensive Japanese woman into a very warm and caring embrace after hearing her story and quietly whispers into her ear, very calmly and very reassuringly in Japanese, “ Watashi wa dare mo kore made dōri ni naru koto o yakusoku shi, hoshō shimasen. Anata to anata no musume ni mōichido te o oite kudasai. . .”
Upon hearing the words, “ I promise and guarantee that no one will ever, and I mean never ever, lay one hand on you and your daughter ever again.” spoken by Akasha in Japanese, those two salty looking Japanese dudes, both sporting jet-black crew-cut hair, sunglasses, custom-made black Giorgio Armani business suits, appear out of nowhere and stand in an on guard, very protective, ever vigilant attack formation around Akasha and the very frightened and apprehensive Japanese woman.
With her body language speaking more volume than her words to the two salty looking Japanese dudes, they exit the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style house to make the very frightened and very apprehensive Japanese woman’s problems simply disappear as an act of reciprocity on the code of jingi, justice and duty, and the code of giri, burden of obligation, by placing any and all of her burdens of debt related to any retaliation by the Chinese Triad solely on the doorstep of none other than The Hariuddoburondo Conglomerate.
A shōji screen opens revealing a very young and little Japanese girl as she enters the almost barren and desolate living room and immediately closes behind her. She was dressed in, ironically, only a faded and torn oversized psychedelic The Hollywood Blonde and Akasha tee shirt worn like an impromptu frock that was just long enough to resemble a traditional mini dress. Her sleek raven black hair was parted in the middle showing off her angelic face with her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes. Her not quite yet luscious and alluring lips had that right to remain silent scowl look to them. Her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes remained focused on her mother as she walked with quiet determination to her mother's side, hiding partially behind her as she turned her focus towards Akasha.
Akasha was mesmerised and hypnotized by the very young little Japanese girl’s very captivating beauty that she quietly thought to herself that she could transform this young little Japanese girl into a very lethal femme fatale temptress.
In response to the act of reciprocity for the code of jingi, justice and duty, and the code of giri, burden of obligation, of this very, very interesting business arrangement with Akasha and The Hariuddoburondo Conglomerate, the young little Japanese girl’s mother agrees to let Akasha train her young daughter in international business etiquette and diplomatic protocol by transforming her young daughter into a very mysterious and seductive woman whose allure and charm will ensnare both men and women, often leading them into very compromising, very dangerous, and very deadly situations.
Akasha crouches down and meets the young little Japanese girl face to face. She lowers her Ray-Ban sunglasses showing the young little Japanese girl her white-hot, fiery red-hot, brilliantly passionate grey eyes of the devil. The little Japanese girl’s intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes met her occidental grey eyes in a way that showed a fondness for causing trouble in a very playful way.
“ Anata no namae wa nanidesu ka?. . .”
The young little Japanese girl comes out from hiding behind her mother with quiet confidence and removes Akasha’s Ray-Ban sunglasses and places them on her angelic looking face hiding her intoxicatingly incandescent almond shaped green eyes and runs her fingers along Akasha’s chin, her not yet luscious and alluring lips barely touching the older woman’s cheek and reaches her ear and whispers her name. The young little Japanese girl’s name is. . .
Meanwhile, back in the stark white stretch limousine. . .
Your soon to be future favorite and most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator, “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove, begins to stir from his peaceful sleep as if waking up from a very nightmarish dream.
He rolls over on the traditional tatami mat made of rice straw and bound together with a finer, softer, rush of straw, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He runs his fingers through his not yet classic masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair, and raises his head showing off his chiseled babyface with an ice cold stare which radiants from his very sparkling blue eyes.
His very sparkling blue eyes focusing on the silhouette outline in the image of a 19th century Samurai warrior around him, in full regalia armor with a face mask that has been decorated with ugly features to terrify his innermost and outermost personal and impersonal demons.
His not yet patented malevolent, tight wolfish cub, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a “My shadowy senses are tingling sensing a very powerful and very knowledgeable presence of a lean, graceful, sensuous, and simply ravishing femme fatale temptress of a 21st century female Samurai warrior gracing my presence in the very near future with a sweet as honey, harmoniously hypnotizing, smooth as silk, smoky voice radiating through her very luscious and alluring lips, and together, we will make blood flow as we storm a kingdom’s castle with pitchforks in hand raising hell in the seventh veil” shit-eating grin. His not yet low dusky voice rings out fully, with all the charm and charisma that one can muster, mister:
“ Fuck, me. . .”
==============================
North East Okayama Prefecture On The Border Of Hyogo Prefecture, Japan, Present Day, 2018. . .
The following takes place sometime after suffering his second straight loss after losing to Andre Aquarius in a Trü Grit match three weeks ago on Monday Bloody Monday and missing this organization's next Monday Bloody Monday and first Pay-Per-View for personal reasons, sometime before the events of this week's tag-team match with Corey Bull against Bonnie Blue and L Verez, and occur in real time sometime during the events of this week’s first NBW Monday Bloody Monday inside The Hariuddoburondo Ryū Dōjō around the midnight hour. . .
The sound inside The Hariuddoburondo Ryū Dōjō was akin to the sun rising in the East and the sun setting in the West and resulting in a cutting-edge silent lucidity that was threatening, overpowering, and yet having a sense of subdued tranquility as a very hypnotizing and very rhythmic heart beating of a very formal, very ceremonial, and very traditional TAIKO DRUMS was forming a sense of life throughout the Ryū Dōjō.
Somewhere in the deep dark recesses of the mind’s eye, you begin to wonder if you ever existed at all or was this all just a some kind of Twilight Zone-esque dream concocted by your own conscious, subconscious mind.
Upon hearing very hypnotizing and very rhythmic heart beating of a very formal, very ceremonial, and very traditional TAIKO DRUMS, your favorite and most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator, “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove, begins to stir from his peaceful sleep as if waking up from having some extra, extra, special, special, hot and steamy sexy, sexy, extracurricular activities.
The antechamber itself was void of all the aesthetics nuances that you, the viewing audience, were accustomed to seeing from "The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove and his sweet and lovely Miyamoto. The entire antechamber was covered entirely in the highest degree of reflective metallic silver mirroring except for the traditional tatami mat flooring made of rice straw and bound together with a finer, softer, rush of straw and the most eye-catchingly expensive and luxurious magnetic floating memory foam bed molding to the shape of an individual's body hovering above the traditional tatami mat flooring in the center of the room.
His muscular body was molded into the eye-catchingly expensive and luxurious magnetic floating memory foam bed. His head resting on a couple of hypoallergenic goose down and goose feather pillows with his hands interlocked in his classic masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair behind his head showing off his fighter's face with an ice cold stare radiating from his sparkling blue eyes. He was covered from the waist down with a Charlotte Thomas Bed Sheet made of high quality Merino wool fabric that was woven with small amounts of gold carat and silk jacquard ensuring a most comfortable and peaceful sleep while showing off the upper body of a Greek God, with a muscular chest and washboard abs.
His heart rate was a very relaxed 40 beats a minute as the oxygen in his blood helped the preternatural powers of his mind’s eye remain focused and alert to the surroundings around him. He seems to be enjoying the quiet, silent lucidity escapism from the rigmaroles of everyday life in New Blood Wrestling.
His low dusky voice rings out fully, with all the charm and charisma that one can muster, mister and gets down to the business of Monday Bloody Monday as he starts painting his masterpiece:
“ Fuck, me. . .”
He begins sliding out of luxurious magnetic floating memory foam bed hovering over the traditional tatami mat flooring in the center of the room, well like a snake, creating locomotion through side-to-side movement and rectilinear progression, which allows him to seamlessly walk on his ribcage in what appears to be an optical illusion, and sits upright on the side of luxurious magnetic floating memory foam bed with his bare feet levitating a couple of feet over the traditional tatami mat flooring in the center of the room.
He rocks both his legs from the knee down and jumps down from the side of luxurious magnetic floating memory foam bed, hovering for a second in mid-air like he was Neo in The Matrix, and sticks the two foot landing like an Olympic gymnast on the traditional tatami mat flooring then starts performing a set of 10 standard push-ups, a set of 10 one armed push-ups alternating touching his left hand on his right knee and right hand on his left knee, and finishing off with a set of 10 handstand push-ups and pops back up to his feet and sticks the landing. Scoring perfect 10’s from the judges, except for the Russian judge who gives him a score of 9.9, if you're scoring at home.
Suddenly, for some very odd reason, in a KRAMER style move; twirling twice and performing a 7.3 on the Richter scale triple take as if coming through a door, he notices his reflection out of the corner of his sparkling blue eyes and poses naturally “Full Monty” style in a very calm, relaxed, mellow fashion in front of one of the sheets of the highly reflective metallic silver mirroring, just long enough for the viewing audience watching at home to hit their record button on their DVRs in order to save the image of a perfect specimen for prosperity.
Woosh!. . .
The first 32” Vantablack carbon fiber Makiwaraya arrow with razor-sharp shita-kitae triple-bladed broadhead flies through one of the sheets of the highly reflective metallic silver mirroring towards him clockwise at 335 feet per second when he catches the arrow with his right hand.
Woosh!. . .
Before he even has a chance to regain his senses, the second Vantablack carbon fiber Makiwaraya arrow with razor-sharp shita-kitae triple-bladed broadhead flies through the same sheet of the highly reflective metallic silver mirroring towards him counterclockwise at 335 feet per second when he catches the arrow with his left hand.
Woosh!. . .
The third 32” Vantablack carbon fiber Makiwaraya arrow with razor-sharp shita-kitae triple-bladed broadhead flies towards him in a mysterious clockwise and counterclockwise left and right handed twist at 335 feet per second when he turns his head at the very last second in the nick-of-time as he walks through the now open same sheet of the highly reflective metallic silver mirroring.
He turns his head back around and glares at his sweet and lovely Miyamoto with the third Vantablack carbon fiber Makiwaraya arrow with razor-sharp shita-kitae triple-bladed broadhead caught between his perfectly white even teeth.
His patented malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth on his chiseled fighter's face in a “ That's why they call me, The Face Of The Franchise, The Whole ‘F'N’ Show, Mr. NBW, or whatever expletive that you want to put in front of my name whiplash smile that just charms the hell out of everyone in this organization” flamboyant, stylistic supermodel deus ex machina shit-eating grin.
She was holding a Yumi Bow, known as Kyudo, or "Way of the Bow", in her right hand, with her right foot pointing down range in a shooting stance towards him. Her feet were shoulder length apart and squared in a shooter's stance on the cast iron balustrade of the indoor grand balcony of the Ryū Dōjō.
Her raven black hair was pulled back in a French braid showing off her angelic looking face with her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes hidden behind a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses strategically placed on her perfectly flawless nose as she made no movement whatsoever, controlling her breathing, bow string pulled back taut left handed with a fourth 32” Vantablack carbon fiber Makiwaraya red turkey feather arrow with razor-sharp shita-kitae triple-bladed broadhead aimed at his heart.
Her attractively well-proportioned, slim, trim, toned body built for sin was encased in the most iconic Black Montsuki & Forest Green Seven Deep-pleated Hakama, the pleats are said to be representative of the seven virtues of Bushidō, considered essential to the samurai way. She was also barefoot with the exception for the stark white tape wrapped around her feet and ankles.
Kyudo places as much emphasis on spiritual and moral development as it does accuracy and skill. It is a very serious discipline, drawing from the ancient Samurai traditions.
“ Nyet!. . .”
The Infamous Superstar's Mother, Akasha’s strong, ethereally supple in a combination of sheer vulnerability and electrifying powerful voice echoes off the stone walls of the Ryū Dōjō.
His sweet and lovely Miyamoto had what appears to be a red crimson red silk sash strategically wrapped around her waist and leg leading up to the ceiling of the Ryū Dōjō as she uses Bushidō catlike precision showing off her grace and flexibility in a Cirque du Soleil-inspired acrobatic stylistic and breathtakingly stunning, twisting and turning, aerial dance off the the cast iron balustrade of the indoor grand balcony and sticks the landing in the center of the tatami floor below as if nothing has happened and stands there looking at him up and down with her arms crossed over her chest.
Her sweet as honey, harmoniously hypnotizing, smooth as silk, smoky voice radiating through her very luscious and very alluring lips:
“ Put your shorts back on, cowboy, we’re not quite finished here just yet, my love. . .”
A porcelain skinned Geisha wearing a Shimada-styled nihongami wig and a formal black kimono, with her obi tied in the taiko style, enters the Ryū Dōjō carrying a polished wooden serving tray with a pair of neatly folded custom-made Calvin Klein crocodile skinned workout shorts and quietly makes her way towards him. She traditionally, formally, ceremonially bows towards him with her arms down at her sides while still holding the polished wooden serving tray and offers him the pair of neatly folded custom-made Calvin Klein crocodile skinned workout shorts.
He places the three 32” Vantablack carbon fiber Makiwaraya red turkey feather arrow with razor-sharp shita-kitae triple-bladed broadhead onto the polished wooden serving tray in exchange for the neatly folded custom-made Calvin Klein crocodile skinned workout shorts and slips into the workout shorts by jumping into them as the Geisha appears to blush under her porcelain skin and quickly disappears back into the darkness of the Ryū Dōjō.
“ And yet you all will say, why shouldn't the son suffer for the iniquity of the father? Since the son has done what is just and right and has been careful to observe all his statutes, so that he shall surely live. The soul who sins is the one who shall die. The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father, nor the father suffer for the iniquity of the son. The righteousness of the righteous shall be credited to them, and the wickedness of the wicked will be charged against them. . ."
Another porcelain skinned Geisha wearing a Shimada-styled nihongami wig and a formal black kimono, with her obi tied in the taiko style, enters the Ryū Dōjō and quietly makes her way towards the simply ravishing femme fatale temptress and traditionally, formally, ceremonially bows towards her with her arms down at her sides as the sweet and lovely Miyamoto saluds Ezekiel 18:19-20. She hands over the Yumi Bow and the fourth 32” Vantablack carbon fiber Makiwaraya arrow with razor-sharp shita-kitae triple-bladed broadhead to her and the Geisha quickly disappears back into the darkness of the Ryū Dōjō.
“ You have two straight losses in this Trü Grit division, my love, and I must say, that is most impressive especially since you pryde yourself on being the silver-tongued devil that draws just as much fan applause and just as much fan heat equally from everyone in this organization like your reputation has been known for doing in the sports entertainment business. When your father passed down the knowledge and the wisdom of the family's legacy, his only warning that he enlightened you with was that you would either simply crash and burn by never coming close to his win or lose, just booze philosophy or you would defy the creative criticism of having the odds against you and your future looking grim and rise up from your shadowy grave and into the light above the clouds in order to eclipse your own reputation. . .”
He sits Indian-style, the wagon burning way and not the taxi driving way, making no physical movement in the seven-point meditation posture with a stillness of serene authority, most prized by the Japanese, in the center of the padded tatami floor under the star light, star brightness of the moonlight cascading down through the octagon shaped atrium.
“ My very existence in this organization and the sports entertainment business is one of the greatest fears of conscious, subconscious knowledge of one's own character’s emotional state, rationale, aspiration, and fountain of youthful eternal exuberance known to both man and woman. It is this self-destructive, self-righteous indignation and self-righteous indulgences of self-awareness that gives me great pleasure and even greater pain in knowing that without my parent’s blood flowing through my veins with the power, the knowledge, and the wisdom of my condescending confidence and antagonistic arrogance and ruthlessly manipulative and unscrupulous influential psychological mindset toughness outside of the squared-circle and an all-around, well-balanced physiological skillset toughness inside of the squared-circle while oozing God-given laissez-faire attitude and Hollywood Blockbuster Superstar Fashion Model Machismo, the NBW cannot and will not exist without the existence of my very own legacy. . .”
She starts twirling his classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair through her fingers with carnal fascination and malignant pleasure.
“ My love, New Blood Wrestling would still exist without your presence but would only exist in a state of mediocrity. Look where that second-rate organization with third-rate talent currently resides in a status quo state of flux without your presence after WAR XVI and just look how infinitively united our former organization became after choosing to file for bankruptcy under a bailout after you defeated Kevin Bishop-san and sent UCI World Heavyweight Champion Preecha Kamon-san into hiding. . .”
She runs her fingers seductively along his chiseled chin and raises his head so that her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes meets his occidental sparkling blue eyes in a way that showed a fondness for causing trouble in a very playful way.
“ These two straight losses of yours in the Trü Grit division are very meaningless in the grand scheme of things here in New Blood Wrestling. The NBW Hierarchy, every velveteen wrestler behind the curtain in the back, and the NBW Fandom have been easily tricked and taunted into complacency when thinking that your defeat to the likes of Masutarōu-san and Andre Aquarius-san are two of the greatest victories in the history of this organization. Especially, since they are simply just one of many people in this organization that would sell their souls and their families out for the simple economics of gold. . .”
Her very luscious and very alluring lips barely touching his chiseled dimpled cheek as they reach his lips. You can almost feel an aura of seductively handsome cold-hearted psychopathic electricity between the two as they become one with their warm, loving, passionate kiss.
“ Their excessive pryde of self-confidence in search of this gold will take its toll when they have given their all to show you their best inside and outside of the squared-circle when hoping that their best is willing and able to deal you a very, very humbling experience in the hopes of walking in your shadow but only to lose because they are simply just one of many people in this organization that already took the bait. Your stoic patience and quiet confidence is second-to-none when knowing that with or without the little trinkets of gold around your waist you have already won and are already savoring your, your ultimate victory over all the people that are out to get you, because in the end, they will hate themselves for loving you as one of the new and improved central foundational cornerstones in the birth, growth, development, and preservation of New Blood Wrestling. . .”
There was that extra special something, something about hearing her silky, smoky voice radiating through her very luscious and very alluring lips after their warm, loving, passionate kiss as she once again starts twirling his classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair through her fingers with carnal fascination and malignant pleasure that sends chills through him and soothes his mind, body, heart, and soul knowing that she was all business.
“ For some very odd reason, I haven't really been myself lately. I've never been one that has ever had to conform to any one stylistic gimmicky aspect of the sports entertainment business, and yet, Vincent Pryde overhears one off the cuff remark I make about naming the Trü Grit division and then tries to sentence me into obscurity thinking that I somehow need that Trü Grit Championship around my waist. Then he thinks that putting me in the squared-circle with some no-talent hacks like Gray Zee and Kendrick Kross was supposed to even come close to appeasing my sense of style. Not on our watch, my friend. Did that match even post any kind of buy rate for SyFy without me actually being in the squared-circle even though my name was on the marquee? And will missing this organization's first Pay-Per-View for personal reasons really have any kind of special effective affective impact on my career going forward?. . .”
She lowers her Ray-Ban sunglasses down her perfectly flawless nose on her angelic looking face showing off her intoxicating and incandescent almond shaped green eyes of a Goddess of the Rising Sun and a 21st century female samurai warrior known for her bravery and strength and looks through the camera and at Bonnie Blue and L Verez watching at home while waving her index finger in a “No, no, no, no ma’am, the rumors of his demise have been greatly appreciated and greatly exaggerated.”
“ My love already has the fame, the fortune, and the notoriety coming from all the rhetoric being spewed from these bigger-than-life personalities, these dames to kill for, and these butt ugly stranger than strange imaginary monsters that New Blood Wrestling is known for in the sports entertainment business to last you for a lifetime. Bonnie Blue and L Verez think that they know your true nature better than anyone else in this organization but even they will flounder around like dead fish not knowing how to handle your mastery, your shrewdness, your competence, your influence, and your manipulation that you have always had over weak-minded individuals that have misunderstood, miscalculated, and underestimated your aesthetic seductive handsomeness that defines your family's time-honored traditional legacy in the sports entertainment business. . .”
He runs his fingers through his his classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair making his hair perfect, down his neck, over his muscular chest and washboard abs then flicks fake beads of sweat in the direction of Bonnie Blue and L Verez making them wet with his money shot while watching at home.
“ Who better for Vincent Pryde to chose to protect his precious new World Heavyweight Champion Corey Bull and his total dislike of, contempt for, or ingrained prejudice against Bonnie Blue and L Verez then the one man that will take his precious Champion’s Championship any given Monday than yours truly? Pryde can objectify and degrade Bonnie Blue and L Verez talent all that he wants but the NBW Hierarchy, every velveteen wrestler behind the curtain in the back, and the NBW Fandom knows that they both have built quite the iconic brand of bra-burning in the sports entertainment business as a means of calling attention to the traditional story of man versus women, especially one concerning the early history of women in the squared-circle as a means of explaining some supernatural phenomenon. . .”
A porcelain skinned Geisha wearing a Shimada-styled nihongami wig and a formal black kimonos, with her obi tied in the taiko style, enters the Ryū Dōjō carrying a polished wooden serving tray with ice cold sweet tea poured into an earthen cup, an ice cold coconut water poured into a coconut with a little pink umbrella, and a rolled up copy of the Wall St. Journal and traditionally, formally, ceremonially bows towards them with her arms down at her sides and offers them the contents of the polished wooden service tray.
“ They both seem to be taking the backstage politicking just a tad bit too seriously. Bonnie Blue has always been fighting her innermost demons in order to protect herself from people like Vincent Pryde-san while still insisting that she is representative of the new era of NBW Hierarchy, every velveteen wrestler behind the curtain in the back, and the NBW Fandom. And L Verez is representative of every contradiction in terms in this organization when believing that she bonds together this new era of NBW Hierarchy, every velveteen wrestler behind the curtain in the back, and the NBW Fandom with her propaganda about being some kind of true Champion in the sports entertainment business. . .”
He removes the ice cold coconut water poured into a coconut with a little pink umbrella offering from the porcelain skinned Geisha, that is a rich source of potassium, manganese, magnesium, folate, calcium,selenium and is very beneficial to his muscular body of a Greek God, and takes a sip with his pinky finger sticking out.
“ The space-time continuum is filled with badass freakarellas like L Verez who have populated the sports entertainment business with natural and well-crafted ambiguousness inside and outside of the squared-circle. Her coupling of femininity and masculinity for the sake of transparency seems like a dream for some and seems like a nightmare for others, but in the end, her command-control-communication-intelligence codex is just as flawed as Bonnie Blue’s bacterial petri dish. She became the UCI Hypermedia Champion for one reason and one reason only. I used my undue influence and manipulation to goad Corey Black into facing her in a rematch when he refused to face her once again in the squared-circle. And after that victory over Corey Black, was she really on her way to becoming the UCI World Heavyweight Champion?. . .”
She sees him taking a sip of ice cold coconut water poured into a coconut with a little pink umbrella without earning that privilege and with Bushidō catlike precision removes the rolled up copy of the Wall St. Journal and strategically slices the coconut out of his hand like a razor-sharp shita-kitae blade from a dragon-headed handled katana with the craftsmanship of a professional plastic surgeon without leaving a mark and places the rolled up copy of the Wall St. Journal back onto the polished wooden service tray as if nothing has happened. The porcelain skinned Geisha traditionally, formally, ceremonially bows towards them with her arms down at her sides and quickly disappears back into the darkness of the Ryū Dōjō.
“ Nope, L Verez, you became a glorified gimmicky novelty Champion and nothing more. Once you won this, this glorified gimmicky novelty Hypermedia Championship, you simply walked away from that glorified gimmicky novelty Championship simply because you couldn’t handle the pressures of being a glorified gimmicky novelty Champion. And once you did that, the incorruptible L Verez became the corrupted and your moral compass ceased to be the primary representative of what endearment value you had as a true Champion inside and outside of the squared-circle. My love has never rested on any of his laurels once we’ve achieved a sufficient comfort level in the sports entertainment business. He has never taken great efforts or strides into gaining the acceptance of whichever organization, whichever fellow wrestlers, or whichever fan base is representative in order to earn their honor and to earn their respect as one of the hardest working individuals in the sports entertainment business in the eyes of the world. That is how you, L Verez, conquer the world. . .”
“PERSONAL JESUS” by Depeche Mode starts to play on the Bose® (product placement) SoundTouch® (product placement) indoor/outdoor surround sound system:
He runs his fingers through his his classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair making his hair perfect, then rises up like a phoenix from a burning flame, and in super slow motion raises his arms up and straight out to his sides and bows his head, as if, being crucified on a cross. And on the third day, Jesus wept because the Gods definitely must be going crazy today.
“ New Blood Wrestling is a very complex and ever changing landscape that sometimes requires restraint and sometimes decisive action. And sometimes, just sometimes we have to act decisively in order to break away from the past Bonnie Blue. There are certain individuals that have threatened my life and have threatened my professional wrestling and professional modeling careers and have failed miserably with their plague of stupidity. But you, Bonnie Blue, came the closest to achieving that ultimate dream of the NBW Hierarchy, every velveteen wrestler behind the curtain in the back, and the NBW Fandom by ending my life and my professional wrestling and professional modeling careers when you sent me crashing through a crystal glass table back in the day. . .”
She seems to mysteriously be conjuring up a mystical spell over him just by her mere presence as she takes her proper place cradling against his muscular body and moving very little, never turning her head, or revealing any kind of expression that gives the viewing audience at home a clue as to her innermost thoughts with the exception of a very sharp and penetrating affection and devilishly delicious, malevolent and pleasurable, mischievously smile coming from her very luscious and very alluring lips while caressing his muscular chest with her fingers.
“ But unfortunately for you, Bonnie Blue, even the heroine of the sports entertainment business, The Daughter of Time, ran out of time and failed. You defeated him, you hit him with your best shot, and he survived to die another day. Your underlying, threatening, idle threats that are supposed to be acts of intimidation and motivation will only serve notice as an act of laughable seditious insurgency that will only bring out your jealousy, your insecurities, and will serve notice that his aesthetic seductively handsome pandemic has dangerously and unpleasantly infested into the very psyche of both L Verez and yourselves rebellious nature in an very infectious way by showing that the louder you both protest and the louder that your underlying, threatening, idle threats are towards him, your most delicately complex rebellious nature of intimidation and motivation will simply just become merely meaningless words only be to be found etched and sketched on his tombstone. . .”
His stomach starts to growl thinking about having cheese and pepperoni on his Tombstone since this self-destructive, so-called, self-proclaimed seditious insurgency means nothing to him and his sweet and lovely Miyamoto in the grand scheme of things here in New Blood Wrestling.
“ As one of the only eye-catching motivational smoke-and-mirror private contracting opportunists left in the squared-circle of New Blood Wrestling and the sports entertainment business, I have been subjected to hatred and contempt as a result of many of my numerously despicable acts and numerous blameworthy circumstances that have been accompanied by loathing or contempt throughout both my professional wrestling and professional modeling careers. And yet, wherever I may roam, people have always turned to me to lead their flock to the promised land of the sports entertainment business. The NBW Hierarchy, every velveteen wrestler behind the curtain in the back, and the NBW Fandom are no different, they know that I am the only wrestler that can walk both in the spotlight and in the shadows of both good and evil and unite them for one very simple goal within this organization. . .”
Two porcelain skinned Geishas wearing a Shimada-styled nihongami wig and a formal black kimono, with her obi tied in the taiko style, enters the Ryū Dōjō and quietly makes her way towards the simply ravishing femme fatale temptress and traditionally, formally, ceremonially bows towards her with her arms down at her sides as the sweet and lovely Miyamoto starts removing her most iconic Black Montsuki & Forest Green Seven Deep-pleated Hakama off her attractively well-proportioned, slim, trim, toned body built for sin.
“ This organization's descent into lawlessness pandemonium begins on Monday Bloody Monday, when NBW Hierarchy, every velveteen wrestler behind the curtain in the back, and the NBW Fandom’s The Face Of The Franchise, The Whole F’N Show, Mr. NBW, or whatever expletive that everyone in New Blood Wrestling wants to put in front of his name removes Vincent Pryde’s chains that bind when trying to keep him under control by becoming one of the new and improved central foundational cornerstones in the birth, growth, development, and preservation of New Blood Wrestling just by the mere presence of being the silver-tongued devil that draws just as much fan applause and just as much fan heat equally from everyone in this organization like his reputation has been known for doing in the sports entertainment business. . .”
For some very odd reason, he loses his train of thought as he seems to be in a somewhat hypnotizing trance watching his sweet and lovely Miyamoto's attractively well-proportioned, slim, trim, toned body built for sin shimmying and shaking her way out of her most iconic Vantablack Montsuki & Forest Green Seven Deep-pleated Hakama, as the Vantablack and Forest Green swirls intertwining around her as if the Montsuki & Hakama were the eye of a great dark whirlpool.
He can see why there are many people throughout the world that fears his sweet and lovely Miyamoto more than him, she really has grown into quite an amazing woman with a particular intensive well-trained set of skills in international business etiquette and diplomatic protocol to go along with her excellent mixture of hand-to-hand combative martial arts that transforms her into very mysterious and seductive femme fatale temptress whose allure and charm will ensnare both men and women, often leading them into very, very, very compromising, very, very, very dangerous, and very, very, very deadly situations.
Her attractively well-proportioned, slim, trim, toned body built for sin was encased in a form-fitting Stark White Under Armour: Armour Bra 2.0 Maximum Control Wire-Free Sports Bra with Vantablack Black Sequin Karate pants. She was barefoot with stark white tape wrapped around her feet and ankles and Vantablack tape wrapped around her hands like a mixed martial artist. Once finished, the two porcelain skinned Geishas traditionally, formally, ceremonially bows towards her with their arms down at her sides and quickly disappears back into the darkness of the Ryū Dōjō.
“ February 5, 2018: "The Daughter of Time" Bonnie Blue & "Not Of This World" L Verez vs. "The Hatebringer" Corey Bull & "The Handsome Half-breed" Shadowlove, Tag-team Main Event Match, Madison Square Garden are one of those rare matches in the sports entertainment business where their reputation alone from everyone involved writes their own hype and headlines that will shake, rattle, and roll the very foundation of New Blood Wrestling for years to come. Corey Bull, I have successfully and unsuccessfully teamed with the most eccentric and eclectic group of individuals throughout my career, names such as Bonnie Blue, David Sanchez, Wentworth Updegraff Jr., Ryan Jones, and Casey Holliday and the one thing, other than being former Champions, that you have in common with them is that win or lose, I have never been the one tag-team partner in a tag-team match that has ever had my shoulders pinned or had to tap-out in the squared-circle. Brooke Bell and Travis McKenna all you two have to do is sit back like everyone else in this organization and enjoy the show. Because as you can see, we have moved away from pursuing naïve unrealistic ideals and more into pursuing the most effectively truthful meaning in terms of becoming the most successful World Heavyweight Champion of all-time in New Blood Wrestling. . .”
He slowly raises his head in super slow motion and double raises an eyebrows with an ice cold psychopathic stare radiants from his sparkling blue eyes as his patented malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth on his chiseled fighter's face in a “ I have the one thing that every man, woman, and child fears, my sweet and lovely Miyamoto. And I will take you to the one place that everyone fears and deliver upon you, The Dark Gift. You see, The Dark Gift isn't like any other finisher in the sports entertainment business. Oh, no, some people need a handful of finishers in order just to survive like Bonnie Blue, L Verez, and even Corey Bull, Brooke Bell, and Travis McKenna. But why, when all you only need is just ONE. ONE to defeat Bonnie Blue, L Verez, and even Corey Bull, Brooke Bell, and Travis McKenna. The Dark Gift is that living, breathing omnipotence, omnipresence, omniscience and truly ostentatious indulgence when it takes on a life of its own and simply ends Bonnie Blue, L Verez, and even Corey Bull, Brooke Bell, and Travis McKenna just like you never even existed on Monday Bloody Monday” Jake The Snake Roberts flamboyant, stylistic supermodel deus ex machina, shit-eating grin.
She pauses. Then. . .
She looks at the viewing audience at home with her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes and showing no emotion on her angelic looking face then slices her own throat from her left carotid artery to her right carotid artery with her right index finger and makes an imaginary blood explosion style gesture with her left hand.
Then. . .
She raises her Ray-Ban sunglasses up her perfectly flawless nose on her angelic looking face while hiding her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes with her middle finger.
THIS IS THE END, MY ONLY FRIEND. . . THE END!