Post by Jack Tillman on May 20, 2017 17:34:54 GMT -5
Chapter Three
May 20th 2015
Tokyo, Japan
Age 19
-499......500.....501.....502.......503.......
-The chops echo in the dungeon as one of the trainees gets chopped by Mark Storm. I don't bother to know any of the other students names because someone quits here on a weekly basis. So what's the point of remembering a name when they're just going to quit? Especially when we're really not worthy of a name when it comes to the NJFC Dojo. My name isn't Jack Tillman. It's Gaijin.
-519.....520.......521.......522......
-And its not really a dungeon we're wrestling in. We just call it the dungeon because it's where some of the teachers like to take us and just beat the ever living shit out of us. No windows. No air conditioning. A padded mat that should of been retired years ago because it has no give. A small room that if you were 6'5 you'd be hitting your head on the ceiling. No high flying here. Ground and pound and submission.Tears are shed. Blood is spilled. Bones are broken and tendons are ripped right off muscle and bone.
-534.........535.......536........537........538.........
-Mark Storm is great at stretching people. He knows just how tight he needs to pull and at what angle to elevate a body part just to make it hurt just a little bit more than what it should. He knows just at what point the muscle wont tear away and knows when not to hit that point of separation.
-557........558.......559........
-Marks been in the ring now for over an hour now. This is number three for him with the students and he hasn't slowed down once. He's not even sweating. He's calm. Collective. Knows what he's going to do next and knows what his opponent is going to do next. He's just a cat playing with a mouse. Me on the other hand, I'm doing squats. The goal? One thousand. After that, push-ups. Already finished my crunches. I'm already sweating up a storm but I'm not tired yet. After my turn with Mark....well that will be another story.
-603.......604.......605........606......
-And of course I'm next to go one on one with him. And he loves fucking with me, only because I'm Kurt Newman's boy. Kurt is the one that's trained me. Kurt's the one that brought me to NJFC. And Kurt's the one that's on bad terms with Mark. So Mark takes advantage of me and my developing skills. His punches are a little bit stiffer than what he gives to the other boys. His kicks have more heat to them. And his submissions are put in a little bit tighter.
-627.......628.......629........630......
-I don't mind though. I've grown use to it by now. This dojo has made me tough. Has made me look past pain and accept it as a friend. It has made me appreciate professional wrestling even more.
-651......652......653......654.......
-The snapping of a bone gets my attention as I look towards the ring and I see the student screaming in pain as he holds his dislocated finger up in the air. Some of the other students attend to him as Mark stares at me. He knows I'm next. I know I'm next. Hitting my last squat at 672, I slowly make my way into the ring.....ready to accept anything and everything that comes my way. I can only hope I can get some offense in.
-Wish me luck.
May 20th 2015
Tokyo, Japan
Age 19
-499......500.....501.....502.......503.......
-The chops echo in the dungeon as one of the trainees gets chopped by Mark Storm. I don't bother to know any of the other students names because someone quits here on a weekly basis. So what's the point of remembering a name when they're just going to quit? Especially when we're really not worthy of a name when it comes to the NJFC Dojo. My name isn't Jack Tillman. It's Gaijin.
-519.....520.......521.......522......
-And its not really a dungeon we're wrestling in. We just call it the dungeon because it's where some of the teachers like to take us and just beat the ever living shit out of us. No windows. No air conditioning. A padded mat that should of been retired years ago because it has no give. A small room that if you were 6'5 you'd be hitting your head on the ceiling. No high flying here. Ground and pound and submission.Tears are shed. Blood is spilled. Bones are broken and tendons are ripped right off muscle and bone.
-534.........535.......536........537........538.........
-Mark Storm is great at stretching people. He knows just how tight he needs to pull and at what angle to elevate a body part just to make it hurt just a little bit more than what it should. He knows just at what point the muscle wont tear away and knows when not to hit that point of separation.
-557........558.......559........
-Marks been in the ring now for over an hour now. This is number three for him with the students and he hasn't slowed down once. He's not even sweating. He's calm. Collective. Knows what he's going to do next and knows what his opponent is going to do next. He's just a cat playing with a mouse. Me on the other hand, I'm doing squats. The goal? One thousand. After that, push-ups. Already finished my crunches. I'm already sweating up a storm but I'm not tired yet. After my turn with Mark....well that will be another story.
-603.......604.......605........606......
-And of course I'm next to go one on one with him. And he loves fucking with me, only because I'm Kurt Newman's boy. Kurt is the one that's trained me. Kurt's the one that brought me to NJFC. And Kurt's the one that's on bad terms with Mark. So Mark takes advantage of me and my developing skills. His punches are a little bit stiffer than what he gives to the other boys. His kicks have more heat to them. And his submissions are put in a little bit tighter.
-627.......628.......629........630......
-I don't mind though. I've grown use to it by now. This dojo has made me tough. Has made me look past pain and accept it as a friend. It has made me appreciate professional wrestling even more.
-651......652......653......654.......
-The snapping of a bone gets my attention as I look towards the ring and I see the student screaming in pain as he holds his dislocated finger up in the air. Some of the other students attend to him as Mark stares at me. He knows I'm next. I know I'm next. Hitting my last squat at 672, I slowly make my way into the ring.....ready to accept anything and everything that comes my way. I can only hope I can get some offense in.
-Wish me luck.
