Post by Furious Julius Fairweather on Aug 24, 2021 18:52:15 GMT -5
Cameron had always been a wrestling fan. As a child, he was thrilled by the rivalry between Superstar Steve and The Boulder, the athleticism of The Heartbreaker, and the unparalleled winning streak of Sal Goldstein. He would lay awake at night, dreaming of the day he would overcome his childhood obesity and recurrent asthma attacks to step between the ropes for himself. As he grew older and accepted the reality of his genetic heritage, Cameron turned his attention toward other aspects of the wrestling business. If he could not perform inside of the ring, maybe he could at least be the man at ringside recording the action. This hope would guide him toward a degree in video communications and an eventual internship with Project: Honor. While his ultimate goal would be to become the company’s director of videography, he knew that he had a tall ladder to climb. So when he was assigned to follow Julius Fairweather around South America to record his promotional videos, Cameron jumped at the opportunity.
That’s where The Fairweather Revenge Squad entered the picture. Promising to pay off Cameron’s extensive college debt and give him exclusive access to the downfall of wrestling’s Bad Motherfucker, they convinced Cameron to report back to them on Julius’ every move. Their ploy began to take hold when Julius decided that Cameron would become his personal videographer, not only to record his trash-talking sessions, but to document his world tour for posterity. Since that time, Cameron has followed Julius from Australian opium dens to Japanese bath houses, experiencing the Fairweather way of life for himself. He was no longer on Project: Honor’s radar as a potential full-time employee or as a talented young man with an eye for action. Instead, he was a member of Julius’ personal entourage; unpaid, unseen, and unappreciated. With his asthma taking a turn for the worse, a growing desire for illegal substances, and a strange rash having developed on his groin region, Cameron began to see things differently.
Cameron had always been a wrestling fan, until he met Julius Fairweather.
“Motherfucker! Get that camera ready! I want you rolling this shit tighter than a blunt!”
With a pounding headache and red eyes from a lack of sleep, Cameron turned on his digital recorder and focused in on Julius, the bright, neon lights of Tokyo filling up the scene behind the Bad Motherfucker.
“You ready to record or what? Get your shit together, motherfucker!”
Cameron envisioned Julius being hit by a car, sliced to death by Yakuza assassins, or eaten by a giant lizard monster. Instead of verbalizing those fantasies, he pointed at Julius with a shaky index finger to give him the ‘on air’ signal.
“What’s up, motherfuckers? It’s The Shepherd coming to you live and in living color from the home of booby-shaped pillows, the McSushi, and canned bread! Don’t believe me? Well I’ve got a tin can full of pecan shortbread that proves my ass right! Not only can you find weird shit like that in Japan, but this is also the home of one of my tag team opponents this week, Kagome Akaibara! That’s right, motherfuckers, this week I’m teaming up with my main motherfucker, Pyro, to get a little practice before Project: Honor’s Collision Course! Standing in our way are the teams known as Steel and Venom and The Rulers of the Underground! What? You haven't heard of their mediocre asses either? Well sit back and let The Weatherman give you his up-to-the-minute forecast on all four of them."
"Seeing as how I'm chilling out in the Land of the Rising Sun, one might think that Kagome is gonna have the hometown advantage in this week's scenario, but if she actually believes that, she’s as crazy as the motherfucking vending machines I’ve seen in this place! Got a roll of yen and need some used panties? You’re in luck, cause Japan is the motherfucking place for you. It’s also the place where Pyro’s gonna set Kagome and James Ranger on fire while I sit back and watch like the cool motherfucker I am. The Blade of Nagasaki? That don't mean shit when compared to the fires of Hiroshima that my tag team partner will be bringing to the motherfucking ring. As for me? I'll be The Brother of Hot Sake standing in the corner with a big old smile on my face. I'll do my part if I'm needed, but I think The Messiah of Fire can handle you outmatched motherfuckers all on his own.”
“I admit, I don’t know why they’re called Steel and Venom, and I don’t really care. I’m guessing it has to have something to do with swords and snakes or some shit like that. All I know for sure is that Fire and Ice are on the motherfucking card, and that’s bad news for anyone scheduled to face us. So Kagome, welcome home. At least your family physician won’t be far away when it’s time to get your post-Pyro skin graft. As for James Ranger, I hear this motherfucker calls himself “Black Mamba”. Bitch, please. If you want to talk about dark-skinned snakes, take a long look at the man who’s gonna knock your ass out come Friday. Maybe you have poison running through your veins, but I can promise you that it ain’t nothing compared to the ice water running through mine. This ain’t nothing more than a scrimmage for me and Pyro, like a pair of pros facing off against the local high school’s junior varsity. So James and Kagome, sorry about your motherfucking luck, but this is gonna be just a little taste of what you can expect come Collision Course.”
“Then we’ve got The Rulers of the Underground, a mouthy little motherfucker named Angelo Caito and his big Viking boyfriend, Thorberg Aaronsson. First of all, Angelo, ain’t nobody mouthier than me, and I’ll be happy to break your motherfucking jaw to keep that position. Good luck speaking for those underground mole people when you’re eating through a motherfucking straw. I’ve got a Royale with Cheese that has your name written all over it, and Pyro is gonna flame broil that motherfucker so that the shape of my knuckles are permanently branded on your motherfucking face. On the bright side, you’ll be able to remember who hit you hard enough to give you the mindset of a toddler who just discovered his pee-pee every time you look in the motherfucking mirror.”
“Speaking of pointing at your pee-pee and giggling, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that bald, dickhead-looking motherfucker named Thorberg. It’s true, you’re a big boy with a bad attitude, and yet I’m still not concerned. That’s because I’ve got the poster-boy for bad attitudes in my corner, and I’d bet my money on Pyro over you any day of the motherfucking week. Trust me, if he’s feeling a little ornery in our match, that big beard of yours is gonna be smelling like the aftermath of a four alarm fire in a carpet factory and there ain’t nothing you can do about it. You’ll be running around that ring like the Nordic version of the Human Torch, and Angelo won’t be able to tell you to stop, drop, and roll with his jaw broken into itty-bitty pieces. If you’re lucky, Kagome will run to the nearest fire extinguisher vending machine or James might whip out his garter snake and beat you upside the head with it to put out the flames. Just don’t count on me and Pyro helping you out, cause he lives for the fire and I’ve taken a liking to watching motherfuckers burn when they’ve got it coming.”
“This week, all four of you have it coming. There ain’t no personal reasons for me to get my kicks other than to put myself in the right mindsight for Fire and Ice to become the next Tag Team Champions of Project: Honor. I’ve been on a roll as of late, and I ain’t about to let any of you bring it to a premature end. You might even say everything’s been coming up aces for your favorite motherfucker, and I’m gonna share that hot streak with my tag team partner this Friday. The Rulers of the Underground and Steel and Venom ain’t the first, and they sure as hell won’t be the last. The simple truth is that they’re just next. Come Friday, there ain’t nothing any of you can do about it except to be cool or be gone.”
Upon hearing Julius’ normal promo-ending tagline, Cameron stops recording as Fairweather gives him a satisfied nod.
“You get all that, motherfucker? If we’re all done here, I’ll treat your ass to one of those life-size dolls at the vending machine around the corner…”
“Uh...no thanks, Mr. Fairweather. I’m...uh...not feeling too well. I think I’ll just head back to the hotel a little early…
“Suit yourself, motherfucker. They say when in Rome, do as the Romans, so I’m fixin’ to get my freak on at that tentacle cosplay club we passed a while back. Catch you on the flipside, Tonto.”
With that, Julius began to walk away, quickly disappearing into the crowd of Tokyo tourists and natives. Once he was sure that his employer was out of sight, Cameron began to make his way in the opposite direction. After a short walk, the nervous and sleep-deprived cameraman ducked into an alley where an elderly Chinese man was awaiting his arrival. The former spiritual advisor for Julius Fairweather, Ras al’ Lin, gave Cameron a slight smile when he laid his foggy, old man eyes upon him. Without exchanging any pleasantries, Cameron reached into his back pocket to retrieve a plain envelope, which he then passed over to Ras.
“Everything you need to infiltrate the next F Word is in there. Press passes, guest tickets, the format schedule...everything you asked for.”
Ras opened the envelope to get a peek at its contents before then passing a roll of American bills to the cameraman.
“The time is nearly here, grasshopper. You have served your masters well, and next week we will finally have our revenge on the accursed Fairweather. Have your camera on him at all times, and I promise you will have exclusive footage of his demise.”
With a nervous twitch, Cameron tucked the money in his pocket and meekly pressed the conversation further.
“I don’t...suppose...you have any...um...cocaine or heroin on hand…”
“Holy fucking shit, grasshopper! What has that maniac done to you?”
Cameron shrugged his shoulders in response.
“Oh...I didn’t pick up those habits from Julius. He tends to stick to herbal remedies. I just find that hard drugs help me forget about selling out to achieve my life's dreams...”
“I see...Rest assured that with his complete humiliation in your hands, you’ll be able to name your price when it comes to being the head videographer of Project: Honor. With the money they’ll be willing to pay, you will be able to swim in narcotics and hookers.”
With their business complete, Ras turned away and would soon disappear in the shadows of the alley. Cameron, hanging his head in shame and absent-mindedly scratching at his groin, returned to the busy Tokyo street in search of his next fix. Seconds later, the simple brick wall the two men had stood in front of begins to move, seemingly without rhyme or reason. Then, that section of the wall takes the shape of a man, his naked body painted to appear as if he were a part of the wall itself. This silent observer raises his fingers to ear, apparently speaking into a wireless headset.
“Cannabis Smith to Howling Mad Hemlock, target is on the move. Looks like The Mother Fucking Team will be crashing The F Word. We may be older and out of practice, but we’re going to have to be at our best. Julius Fairweather’s life may just depend on it…”
That’s where The Fairweather Revenge Squad entered the picture. Promising to pay off Cameron’s extensive college debt and give him exclusive access to the downfall of wrestling’s Bad Motherfucker, they convinced Cameron to report back to them on Julius’ every move. Their ploy began to take hold when Julius decided that Cameron would become his personal videographer, not only to record his trash-talking sessions, but to document his world tour for posterity. Since that time, Cameron has followed Julius from Australian opium dens to Japanese bath houses, experiencing the Fairweather way of life for himself. He was no longer on Project: Honor’s radar as a potential full-time employee or as a talented young man with an eye for action. Instead, he was a member of Julius’ personal entourage; unpaid, unseen, and unappreciated. With his asthma taking a turn for the worse, a growing desire for illegal substances, and a strange rash having developed on his groin region, Cameron began to see things differently.
Cameron had always been a wrestling fan, until he met Julius Fairweather.
“Motherfucker! Get that camera ready! I want you rolling this shit tighter than a blunt!”
With a pounding headache and red eyes from a lack of sleep, Cameron turned on his digital recorder and focused in on Julius, the bright, neon lights of Tokyo filling up the scene behind the Bad Motherfucker.
“You ready to record or what? Get your shit together, motherfucker!”
Cameron envisioned Julius being hit by a car, sliced to death by Yakuza assassins, or eaten by a giant lizard monster. Instead of verbalizing those fantasies, he pointed at Julius with a shaky index finger to give him the ‘on air’ signal.
“What’s up, motherfuckers? It’s The Shepherd coming to you live and in living color from the home of booby-shaped pillows, the McSushi, and canned bread! Don’t believe me? Well I’ve got a tin can full of pecan shortbread that proves my ass right! Not only can you find weird shit like that in Japan, but this is also the home of one of my tag team opponents this week, Kagome Akaibara! That’s right, motherfuckers, this week I’m teaming up with my main motherfucker, Pyro, to get a little practice before Project: Honor’s Collision Course! Standing in our way are the teams known as Steel and Venom and The Rulers of the Underground! What? You haven't heard of their mediocre asses either? Well sit back and let The Weatherman give you his up-to-the-minute forecast on all four of them."
"Seeing as how I'm chilling out in the Land of the Rising Sun, one might think that Kagome is gonna have the hometown advantage in this week's scenario, but if she actually believes that, she’s as crazy as the motherfucking vending machines I’ve seen in this place! Got a roll of yen and need some used panties? You’re in luck, cause Japan is the motherfucking place for you. It’s also the place where Pyro’s gonna set Kagome and James Ranger on fire while I sit back and watch like the cool motherfucker I am. The Blade of Nagasaki? That don't mean shit when compared to the fires of Hiroshima that my tag team partner will be bringing to the motherfucking ring. As for me? I'll be The Brother of Hot Sake standing in the corner with a big old smile on my face. I'll do my part if I'm needed, but I think The Messiah of Fire can handle you outmatched motherfuckers all on his own.”
“I admit, I don’t know why they’re called Steel and Venom, and I don’t really care. I’m guessing it has to have something to do with swords and snakes or some shit like that. All I know for sure is that Fire and Ice are on the motherfucking card, and that’s bad news for anyone scheduled to face us. So Kagome, welcome home. At least your family physician won’t be far away when it’s time to get your post-Pyro skin graft. As for James Ranger, I hear this motherfucker calls himself “Black Mamba”. Bitch, please. If you want to talk about dark-skinned snakes, take a long look at the man who’s gonna knock your ass out come Friday. Maybe you have poison running through your veins, but I can promise you that it ain’t nothing compared to the ice water running through mine. This ain’t nothing more than a scrimmage for me and Pyro, like a pair of pros facing off against the local high school’s junior varsity. So James and Kagome, sorry about your motherfucking luck, but this is gonna be just a little taste of what you can expect come Collision Course.”
“Then we’ve got The Rulers of the Underground, a mouthy little motherfucker named Angelo Caito and his big Viking boyfriend, Thorberg Aaronsson. First of all, Angelo, ain’t nobody mouthier than me, and I’ll be happy to break your motherfucking jaw to keep that position. Good luck speaking for those underground mole people when you’re eating through a motherfucking straw. I’ve got a Royale with Cheese that has your name written all over it, and Pyro is gonna flame broil that motherfucker so that the shape of my knuckles are permanently branded on your motherfucking face. On the bright side, you’ll be able to remember who hit you hard enough to give you the mindset of a toddler who just discovered his pee-pee every time you look in the motherfucking mirror.”
“Speaking of pointing at your pee-pee and giggling, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that bald, dickhead-looking motherfucker named Thorberg. It’s true, you’re a big boy with a bad attitude, and yet I’m still not concerned. That’s because I’ve got the poster-boy for bad attitudes in my corner, and I’d bet my money on Pyro over you any day of the motherfucking week. Trust me, if he’s feeling a little ornery in our match, that big beard of yours is gonna be smelling like the aftermath of a four alarm fire in a carpet factory and there ain’t nothing you can do about it. You’ll be running around that ring like the Nordic version of the Human Torch, and Angelo won’t be able to tell you to stop, drop, and roll with his jaw broken into itty-bitty pieces. If you’re lucky, Kagome will run to the nearest fire extinguisher vending machine or James might whip out his garter snake and beat you upside the head with it to put out the flames. Just don’t count on me and Pyro helping you out, cause he lives for the fire and I’ve taken a liking to watching motherfuckers burn when they’ve got it coming.”
“This week, all four of you have it coming. There ain’t no personal reasons for me to get my kicks other than to put myself in the right mindsight for Fire and Ice to become the next Tag Team Champions of Project: Honor. I’ve been on a roll as of late, and I ain’t about to let any of you bring it to a premature end. You might even say everything’s been coming up aces for your favorite motherfucker, and I’m gonna share that hot streak with my tag team partner this Friday. The Rulers of the Underground and Steel and Venom ain’t the first, and they sure as hell won’t be the last. The simple truth is that they’re just next. Come Friday, there ain’t nothing any of you can do about it except to be cool or be gone.”
Upon hearing Julius’ normal promo-ending tagline, Cameron stops recording as Fairweather gives him a satisfied nod.
“You get all that, motherfucker? If we’re all done here, I’ll treat your ass to one of those life-size dolls at the vending machine around the corner…”
“Uh...no thanks, Mr. Fairweather. I’m...uh...not feeling too well. I think I’ll just head back to the hotel a little early…
“Suit yourself, motherfucker. They say when in Rome, do as the Romans, so I’m fixin’ to get my freak on at that tentacle cosplay club we passed a while back. Catch you on the flipside, Tonto.”
With that, Julius began to walk away, quickly disappearing into the crowd of Tokyo tourists and natives. Once he was sure that his employer was out of sight, Cameron began to make his way in the opposite direction. After a short walk, the nervous and sleep-deprived cameraman ducked into an alley where an elderly Chinese man was awaiting his arrival. The former spiritual advisor for Julius Fairweather, Ras al’ Lin, gave Cameron a slight smile when he laid his foggy, old man eyes upon him. Without exchanging any pleasantries, Cameron reached into his back pocket to retrieve a plain envelope, which he then passed over to Ras.
“Everything you need to infiltrate the next F Word is in there. Press passes, guest tickets, the format schedule...everything you asked for.”
Ras opened the envelope to get a peek at its contents before then passing a roll of American bills to the cameraman.
“The time is nearly here, grasshopper. You have served your masters well, and next week we will finally have our revenge on the accursed Fairweather. Have your camera on him at all times, and I promise you will have exclusive footage of his demise.”
With a nervous twitch, Cameron tucked the money in his pocket and meekly pressed the conversation further.
“I don’t...suppose...you have any...um...cocaine or heroin on hand…”
“Holy fucking shit, grasshopper! What has that maniac done to you?”
Cameron shrugged his shoulders in response.
“Oh...I didn’t pick up those habits from Julius. He tends to stick to herbal remedies. I just find that hard drugs help me forget about selling out to achieve my life's dreams...”
“I see...Rest assured that with his complete humiliation in your hands, you’ll be able to name your price when it comes to being the head videographer of Project: Honor. With the money they’ll be willing to pay, you will be able to swim in narcotics and hookers.”
With their business complete, Ras turned away and would soon disappear in the shadows of the alley. Cameron, hanging his head in shame and absent-mindedly scratching at his groin, returned to the busy Tokyo street in search of his next fix. Seconds later, the simple brick wall the two men had stood in front of begins to move, seemingly without rhyme or reason. Then, that section of the wall takes the shape of a man, his naked body painted to appear as if he were a part of the wall itself. This silent observer raises his fingers to ear, apparently speaking into a wireless headset.
“Cannabis Smith to Howling Mad Hemlock, target is on the move. Looks like The Mother Fucking Team will be crashing The F Word. We may be older and out of practice, but we’re going to have to be at our best. Julius Fairweather’s life may just depend on it…”
