PROMO: 'TurningJapaneseIThinkI'mTurningJapanese...

[Toxxic 0]

A Hotel room in Tokyo

Sometime Thursday morning

 

A funky, honky-tonk piano, accompanied by handclaps, disturbs the peace and quiet inside the small, minimal white room. The source of the noise quickly becomes obvious as ‘Rock The Kasbah’ by The Clash, currently the ringtone of choice on Toxxic’s mobile phone. After a few seconds a black-nailed hand reaches out and grabs the offending communication device, and a moment later the rest of the battered former World Champion emerges from under the covers.

 

“Mmmph?” the Straight-Edge Sensation grunts into the handset, wincing at the pain in his index finger.

 

“Mike?”

 

“Whu…?” Toxxic mumbles, then a few neurones kick in and he recognises Jet’s voice. “Ohhh, hey up love, how you doin’?”

 

“I’m Ok. But I called to check how you were.”

 

“Well, Ejiro did a number on me,” Toxxic admits, struggling to sit up in bed before deciding that it really isn’t worth the bother. “So basically; I’m bloody sore. Apart from that… eh, I’m alright.”

 

“C’mon Mike, this is me you’re talking to. You’re never ‘alright’ after you’ve just lost a match. Especially not for the World Title.”

 

“No, seriously,” Toxxic grins at the concern in the Philly Madgirl’s voice, “I’m alright. I’d cross my heart, if I had one.”

 

“Very funny,” Jet laughs, “you don’t fool me with that ‘Evil’ bullshit, Mike. But seriously… you’re OK? No sudden desires to hurt people?”

 

“Honest to whatever deity you want,” Toxxic replies. “Am I hurting? Hell yeah. Am I bit down that I lost the title? Yup. But quite frankly, beyond that I don’t give a damn. You win some, you lose some. I still win more than I lose, so what the hell? Let people chase Ejiro for a little while.” The straight-edger cautiously places his unhurt hand behind his head and leans back on the pillow, grateful that at least one part of his body isn’t in pain. “Don’t worry, the days of me taking out midcarders in a fit of pique has gone. Come to think of it,” Toxxic continues, “what the hell is pique anyway? Some kind of sushi?”

 

“So you’re not worried about what Ejiro said? Y’know, after the match?”

 

“I know he shouted something about it not being over,” Toxxic grunts, “but my thoughts were kinda elsewhere at that point. Having your shoulder and head ripped off tends to reduce your appreciation of the finer points of semantics.” The Brit wipes his left hand over his eyes. “Bloody hell, did I just use the word ‘semantics’ three minutes after waking up? I’m turning into bloody Pretzler.”

 

“That whole anti-intellectual act doesn’t work with me either,” Jet tells him, mock-sternly. “I don’t believe that you don’t know what ‘pique’ is, either.”

 

“Busted,” Toxxic admits ruefully. “So, what’s up with you? Card working you hard?”

 

“Yeah, he says I’m doing great. In fact, he says that he’d be prepared to let me into the ring saying I’m his student before too long.”

 

“Bloody hell, that’s high praise from him,” Toxxic laughs. “Tell you what, I’ll race you to the World Title!”

 

“…Mike?”

 

“What?”

 

“Have you seen the rest of the show? Like, all of it? The interviews and everything?”

 

“No,” Toxxic says slowly. The note of concern in Jet’s voice is vaguely worrying. “Why? What’s up?”

 

“Ejiro had an interview when he came down to the ring. You were probably getting ready for your match. He said that when you took his sister out, you took away everything nice about him.”

 

“No argument there,” Toxxic mutters.

 

“Mike, I’m serious and so was he. But he also… he also basically said he was going to do the same thing to you. He said he was going to take everything away and see what sort of man you really are.”

 

There are a few moments of silence in the hotel room in Tokyo as Toxxic’s eyes stare unseeing at the ceiling for a moment. Whatever is going through the Straight-Edge Sensation’s thoughts, it isn’t the mural above his bed.

 

“…did he…?” The grey eyes narrow slightly. “…that’s interesting.”

 

“Mike, you need to watch it for yourself to see what I mean. But I want to ask you something.”

 

“Fire away.”

 

“You’ll be careful, right? And I don’t just mean with Ejiro,” Jet adds before Toxxic can speak, “I mean for yourself. I know what sort of man you think you are. Remember those days after From The Fire. Jeez Mike, I don’t want to go through that again, especially not when I’m in another damn country!”

 

There is another pause for a couple of seconds. Then:

 

“Point taken,” Toxxic says, then looks across at the clock beside his bed. “Look, I gotta get going - they don’t serve breakfast for much longer and I’m not exactly quick on my feet after last night.” The Straight-Edge Sensation sits up with considerable effort, then swings his legs over the side of the bed with a wince. “But listen, cheers for calling, right? Means a lot to me.”

 

“OK. You take care, y’hear?”

 

“Will do,” Toxxic grins as he wobbles unsteadily to his feet, “you too.”

 

“Laters.”

 

“Laters.”

 

*click*

 

Toxxic chucks the phone onto his bed, then limps purposefully off towards the bathroom. He’s going to get washed, dressed, and then go in search of food. After that… well, he knows the production crew well enough to know that someone will be able to furnish him with a DVD of last night’s footage. There’s an interview he could do with catching.

[Secret Agent 0]

Oh, man; I like it... but I don't know if I like where it's going.

[Toxxic 0]

Don’t worry, the days of me taking out midcarders in a fit of pique has gone.

 

You're safe, Johnny

[A Happy Medium 0]

Hmmm..for some odd reason, I can see a double turn happening....

 

Great promo, Toxx.

[Guest Goodear]

Yeah I could see that, which means I have to make Ejiro a bit more fan friendly if not more friendly towards the fans.

 

By the same token, losing the title and not being pissed... thats going to get Ejiro even more angry. Because Revenge is a dish best served hot with steaming entrails