BRAWLHALLA: Asgard

[brusch]

Re: After BRAWL 63: Laos

“You’ve got it all wrong, fellas…

…I don’t NEED cheat codes to beat you all.”

(The camera opens up above Leyenda de Ocho, laying on his back as snow falls in Esplanade Park in the heart of Helsinki. In the ground around him, where there would normally be a snow angel, Ocho has found a way to configure a snowy outline of Link, complete with shield, outstretched sword, and wavy cap.)

Ocho: “I don’t take shortcuts. I don’t own a GameShark. I don’t crack open the system to rewire the console. I wouldn’t dare…to do so would sell short the thousands of hours poured into the works of art created by hundreds of game designers…to do so would sell short the immensely powerful and deep characters found in these treasures, unrooting their very purpose of being…to do so would make this not a game at all, but an exercise in hacking the system to my will in order to perversely warp its wiring to my desires, to beat a game by making it a pointless and banal exercise in self-masturbation.

In other words…to become Rook Black.

He’s a man who claims he’ll use whatever imagery and symbols he likes for his own purposes, to use a person’s own motivations as a proverbial carrot on a stick to send a man forward careening into his own traps. But here’s the thing – when you reveal your hand too early, when you claim pre-ordained victory due to the brilliance of your method...you fall victim to a classic blunder. The villainous monologue.


Don't get me wrong - delivering it is CRITICAL. Especially in your role as the Final Boss - and especially if you go out of your way to say "I KNEW you would pick up on it and it's STILL a part of me using your iconography for my aims!~". You will fall to me, Rook, because your aims are flawed. Your brilliant methods - flawed. Your sense of inevitability...


Flawed.


Just like my opponents who glaze over what I say and reply by ignoring its meat, its TRUTH, in order to give their carbon-copy form-letter statements about their greatness. There is no purity in that. There is no honor. There is no chance that my opponents, as talented as they are, could ever hope to restore honor to the Triforce in the manner I can - and it is why I do battle. It is why I will fling myself headlong into danger against seemingly insurmountable odds.


I am The Gamer. I am Player One.


And the Triforce will be mine."


(Fade to black.)

 

[Mad Dog]

Re: After BRAWL 63: Laos

(FADEIN to Boogie Smallz entering his hotel room in a black sweat suit with a towel around his neck, presumably returning from a workout somewhere within the hotel facilities. He reaches for an iPad sitting on a desk and reviews clips of recent promos from his future opponents at BRAWLHALLA: Asgard.

He tosses the towel around his neck to the floor and sits down in a chair as he continues to listen to words from Jesse Ramey, Leyenda de Ocho, Orange Dragon II, and Rook Black. As the final promo that he watches comes to an end, he tosses the iPad down and stands up to address a camera that is in his room. He presses the record button and begins to speak.)

BOOGIE SMALLZ: I came to New Frontier for a fresh start. After bein’ jerked around by promotions in the past, NFW seemed like a logical landin’ point for me to start with a clean slate. I know a few of the athletes here, worked with them in some capacity in the past, and knew if they were still here that maybe this organization knows what they are doin’.

All I want is a fair shake. An opportunity to rise through the ranks and prove to the world that Boogie Smallz is still a dominant force in this industry. And when given the chance that I will excel at WHATEVER the promoters wanna throw my way.

So to be booked in this match with the prospect of gettin’ a title shot in the same night, that appealed to my ego. What better way to make a statement with a new company than to destroy three of their new acquisitions and showin’ Mayfield, and everyone watchin’ for that matter, that this is my time?

Because I don’t have it to waste. I gotta start out the gate and destroy anything in my path, make the most of whatever crumbs the promotion throws my way, and decimate these bitches like nobody’s business.

(Smallz mean mugs the camera before continuing his rant.)

My opponents? They sure as hell don’t want that. They’ve got their own agendas…their own plans. They want to prove themselves to the masses and the competition as much as I do. Every single one of us wants the Triple Crown championship. And in some people’s eyes, that title may have the most significance in this company because of the lengthy title reign that Rook Black has had.

But the thing that separates all of us, that differentiates me from them? It’s simple, really. It’s the fact that these same guys get another chance a week after this show to win a match for an even bigger prize, the NFW World title.

Am I supposed to just shrug that off? Talk about the preferential treatment these guys are receivin’ because they’re smaller than me? Like it’s a fuckin’ handicap and I should feel sorry for them? That all they are is charity cases and they should be thrown opportunity after opportunity because they are (Uses air quotes.)…”special”. And what comes after this…a telethon hosted by Verne Troyer so people can contribute to the vertically challenged?

Should I be upset that I am bein’ treated with discrimination. Maybe New Frontier isn’t any different than the other companies I have worked for. (Nods his head.) In the past, I felt I was bein’ held back because of my race…now that still might be the case, but in this instance it’s because I weigh too much? This is some bullshit!

Do I need to bring up affirmative action? Stroll out here with a binder full of women and show how I am an equal opportunity type of brotha’? And why can’t the favor be reciprocated?

But don’t worry about me…I’ll make it to that point soon enough. I’ve gone through worse experiences in this business to let somethin’ like that stop me from reachin’ the top. I’m just tryin’ to point out the shit I have to go through so that everyone sees what’s up.

I have other avenues, different routes to take before I arrive at the pinnacle of this organization. The first stop on that journey begins at Brawlhalla.

(Boogie takes a swig of water from a bottle on the table. He rolls his neck and tries to compose himself before discussing his next match.)

Orange Dragon II comes out and rambles about rice, potted plants, and computers. Man, this guy is all over the place, isn’t he? No wonder Jesse Ramey said he had nothin’ to say about him.

Dragon, only so many sequels can top the original. Much like most sequels, they are usually unnecessary, unwanted, and are made to capitalize on the success of the predecessor. And since no one in New Frontier has ever heard of the original Orange Dragon…we can count out the latter.

So unless you somehow are the lost member of the Power Rangers or apart of some unit of multi-colored dragons hell-bent on world domination…keep your mouth shut. At least if you were a member of somethin’ bigger, you might gain the interest of the fans and members of NFW alike. Maybe you can come out of the closet and join the Rainbow Coalition for all I care. The world needs more gay wrestlers to break down the barriers for equality and whatnot...I guess. I mean…at least then you would have some sort of purpose.

But regardless of what you do…I will treat you like all other Number Two’s in my everyday life…I’ll flush you down the toilet and never think about it again.

(Smallz rubs his chin before moving on to address another opponent.)

Jesse Ramey talks about how he loses all the time. And I’m thinkin’ that trend continues. Maybe it’s time you take those twenty plus years and look back at how insignificant your career has been. Surely you realize that this could be your last major run in a company…that you are in the twilight of your profession.

But you can’t think about retirement…because there is no pension to collect. You can’t follow in the footsteps of your West Virginian forefathers and get into minin’, because most are dead by your age. And you wouldn’t want that lifestyle anyway…all zooted out on oxycontin watchin’ reruns of MTV’s Buckwild because their cousin is on it…it’s no life for anyone to lead.

So this is probably one of your last chances to find success. But it won’t be in this match. (Shakes his head.) Nah…not this one. Maybe you should save your strength and whatever you can muster up for the Grand Prix, old timer. I wouldn’t want you to break a hip tryin’ to beat me with only one week’s time before you get the chance to win a World title match. That would just be tragic. (Smirks.)

Then we’ve got, Leyenda de Ocho. Ocho smartened up and learned to shut his mouth. Not even a brief mention of my name. I just got lumped in with the rest of the “fellas”, as he put it, while Ocho ignored the fact that he has to face three other people before he gets to the “Final Boss”.

Look, I tried to play into your video game obsession and bit the line just like everyone else that you face. There is a time for fun and games…and then there is a time where you have to face reality and tackle shit in the real world. And in order for you to advance through the stages in the wrestling landscape…you have to deal with genuine issues. You can’t pick up a controller for an X-box, play games, and hope that your excellent hand-eye coordination will somehow transfer into the ring.

It just doesn’t work that way, kid.

You can run away from me all you want, duckin’ and dodgin’…hopin’ that I don’t get my mitts on that scrawny neck of yours…but at some point you’ll screw up. Maybe miscalculate the situation, perhaps by mixin’ it up with your fellow cruiserweights and forgettin’ about the true test of your skills that stands in front of you right now.

You speak of honor and integrity. You talk about your opponent’s “glazin’” over the things you say…yet do you display any nobility by ignorin’ your opponents and skippin’ ahead to focus on Rook Black? That’s downright arrogant if you ask me. You don’t practice what you preach.

You are a fake, Ocho. You mask who you are beyond the cloth you use to conceal your identity. You pretend to be some type of goody-two-shoes when all the while you are just like the rest of us. In it for yourself, greedy for whatever title you can win, and lookin’ past your next opponent with your eyes on the prize.

So don’t sell yourself to the fans as bein’ somethin’ you’re obviously not, just to let that greedy side shine through because you enjoy the residuals from your t-shirt sales. Pathetic. (Shakes his head.)

Which leads me to the man that everyone wants to get a piece of…Rook Black. Rook, if you look at what will unfold for the main event at Brawlhalla…it would appear that your chances of retainin’ the Triple Crown strap are pretty good. You got four people who will be at each others throats and you are just kicked back waitin’ to pick off the last survivor. Sounds like a sweet gig to me…who wouldn’t want that, right?

But Rook…you are underestimatin’ what you are up against. While you are chillin’ out, listenin’ to Barry Manilow or whatever lame shit you listen to, cruisin’ around waitin’ for your title defense…I’ll be lurkin’ on the sidewalk ready to catch you slippin’!

Run up with my gun up, cock that bitch back, put the chrome to your dome, and belt out the words for you to “break yo’self” while you are sittin’ at a stoplight unaware that you just drove into the wrong side of town. Droppin’ an Orange Dragon Number Two in your pants because you are scared to death of what comes next. Any wrong move and your ass is iced.

But don’t get me wrong…this is all metaphorical, mind you. I don’t condone gun violence…you would be an idiot to do so with all of the heated words goin’ around about gun control. But I’m tryin’ to paint you a picture of what you will have to face when you step into the ring with me in the main event.

Gotta love that Second Amendment! Put rest assured, Rook…the only guns I need to beat you with are right here.

(Flexes the muscle in his arms and as the look of intensity overcomes his face. Smallz exhales his breath and releases his flex before continuing.)

I’ve been without even an ounce of gold, let alone ten pounds of it strapped around my waist, for a long ass time. I’ve been waitin’ for that opportunity since I returned to the sport for the Ultratitle. This is my first crack at a championship for as long as I can remember. After years of bein’ held back in every promotion I’ve wrestled for…I gotta make the most of what Mayfield is throwin’ my way.

Your streak, while impressive to most of the people that have been in New Frontier…just don’t mean shit to me. Probably because I haven’t been around to witness it first-hand. But I can watch the footage, see how you operate, try to gain some knowledge on how you’ve seemed to escape defeat time and time again. Find the chink in the armor and exploit the hell out of it.

Black on Black crime is gonna take place in Finland. Boogie Smallz is gonna pull a jack move, beat Rook Black for the Triple Crown championship, and get my name etched into the NFW archives as the man that ended the illustrious title reign. I’m pumped up about this, Rook. How you feelin’, dawg? I’d hate to be you right about now.

I’m done with this…I’m out.

(Smallz presses a button to end the recording. FADE TO BLACK)

 

[fugginVOSS]

Re: After BRAWL 63: Laos

[FADE IN: on TEDDY ALEXANDER walking the streets of Oslo. A behemoth amongst the crowds. Some tourists stop and snap pictures. Others just move out of his way. The cameraman expertly walks backwards as TEDDY moves toward the camera, keeping a slowish pace as he goes. He’s wearing a SUPERFLY EXPRESS “Never Comes Off” t-shirt with the EMT belt printed around the waist. Of course, the sleeves are crudely cut off. Everyone else? They’re rugged up for the winter.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Fear and loathin’ in Oslo.”

[Snicker.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Fear.

“Dat’s what runs through to your soul when you think of facin’ me inside da ring in Oslo, boys. Fear. Pure, unadulterated, spine tinglin’ fear. Da hairs stand on da back of your necks. Your heart skips a beat. Your breathin’ is erratic.”

[Smirk.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Fear.

“It’s only RIGHT dat you should fear me. It’s how it’s meant to be. While you two clowns make a laughin’ stock of da very Championships you stole from me and Phil it’s only fateful dat what should take ‘em away from you is what you should fear da most.”

[TEDDY stops at a sidewalk cafe and takes a seat at a table. The cameraman expertly finds his way into the chair opposite. Wait staff scurry over.]

WAITER:
“Sir, would you find it more comfortable inside by the fire?”

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“I’m fine. I’ll take a water.” (points to the cameraman) “What’re you havin’?”

CAMERAMAN:
“I’m fine.”

[TEDDY ignores the waiter, who takes that as opportunity to fetch the order. TEDDY’s attention is fixated on the cameraman.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Superfly – I’m legit fuckin’ beast mode. I am da bump in da night dat forces you to sit up and clutch da baseball bat you keep beneath your bed. I’m dat moment you walk through da forest at night and hear dat ominous twig snap.

(thumbs to chest on word breaks) “Legit – fuckin’ – beast mode.

“You told da world dat those belts never come off – but me and Phil proved dat wasn’t true. I told you dat I would divide you and conquer you. When I called Harmen out he ran for da hills. And when I finally got my hands around his scrawny little throat I tossed him from da top of dat bamboo cage in Laos to make a STATEMENT dat he won’t soon forget. When I headed down dat ring, to support MY BROTHER, and kicked dat dumb look off of Nova’s face... it was my exclamation.

(spitting the words like venom) “FEAR – ME!”

[TEDDY nods sadistically as a bottle of Perrier is left on the table with a glass. He slowly pours it out as he continues to speak, eyes on the glass.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Loathin’.

“I despise you two. What you represent. Da farce you’ve made out of those championships. Da joke you’ve made of BEIN’ champions. You think hidin’ behind cute little catch phrases is what it takes to be da best tag team in da world but Phil and me have got a little bit of a difference of opinion to you on dat one.

“It takes a well-oiled machine dat understands each other’s strengths and weaknesses. It takes a pair of men willin’ to go to war NOT just against walkin’ punchlines like you two... but willin’ to go to war and fight shoulder-to-shoulder as one.

“Take a look at what you’re facin’... Phil Atken is one of da most connivin’, despicable, sly wrestlers dat ever stepped foot in da ring. I call it opportunism, because da man WANTS To win. Da man knows what it TAKES to win. He can stand on da brink of sanity and know dat if takes dat next step nobody else is willin’ to take... he will win. WE will win.

“And then there’s me. New Frontier Wrestlin’s twenty-twelve Rookie of da Year. DA MOST powerful man on da Frontier’s roster. Da most vicious. Da most brutal sonofabitch you’ll ever stand across from. I AM da Philadelphian Nightmare.

“And when you look at me... when you look at Phil... I want you to HATE us. I want you to LOATHE us. Because with all your cute little jokes and your drug paraphernalia you don’t have what it takes to beat us.

“You need to dig deep and find somethin’ in your souls to beat us. YOU need to take dat next step.

“Not us.

“See, we’ve already won dis. We’ve already won da war and all dis is... all dis match is... is da sacrifice of da lambs in honour of da champions.

“So practice your bleatin’.”

[Swigs from his glass.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Fear me. Loathe me. Die for me.

“Let da bodies... hit... da floor.”

[FADE to BLACK!]

 

[Rook Black]

Re: After BRAWL 63: Laos

ROOK: "Fortunately, it doesn't matter to me if you understand or not at this point."

(FADE IN: ROOK BLACK, looking a little run down, with dark circles under his eyes. He's shirtless and wearing black track pants and his cowboy boots. A towel rests across his shoulders. Sweat glistens, and drips down his face. He stands in a ring inside an athletic facility, leaning over the top rope.)

ROOK: "In the squared circle, everything else fades. You don't have to worry anymore. The outcome will be what it will be. It's just breath, sweat, blood, and the mechanics of motion, of exertion. Neurons firing to chain the sequences of muscle memory to get the outcomes that I want."

ROOK (not entertained): "You guys have been telling me how lucky I am that I get to sit and watch the first round the gauntlet."

ROOK: "And yet, I'm the only one in this thing who doesn't get to know precisely who he's facing. You guys do, if you win, you get me. That could be any one of the four of you. I've had to work four times as hard to mentally prepare myself for what's coming. Less sleep, less standard exercise, less self indulgent thinking ..."

ROOK (deep exhale): "... and it's a trial. As I've gone at length to explain, my happiest moments are in the ring. And unfortunatelym you all get to have more of that than I do in Helsinki."

(a small laugh, breaking free of a normally controlled diction)

ROOK: "It's funny, but it's also true, that things are most equal when no one gets what they want."

ROOK: "It'd been mentioned before that I'd gone a supervillain rant where I explained my plan. Oh no, I had not. I just get tired of being mysterious, since when people don't know what to think about what I say and do, they tend to either shut down their brains entirely, or grasp desperately for whatever details they can understand, and lose the big picture. That was in no way a supervillain monologue"

ROOK: "This, will be a supervillain monologue rant."

(ROOK straightens, and shuts his eyes. When they open, the fatigue evident before is significantly less apparent as something is animating him even in the face of exhaustion.)

ROOK: "On a mythological level, I've gone to great lengths to construct this not-unfriendly-but-yet-still-antagonistic persona, the Final Boss, the compelling and complicated villain. I've hinted around at the possibility of sympathetic goals, that I'm a bad guy, but that I'm operating on something like a code, and can be an honorable enemy that you can respect. Maybe you can beat me, but maybe you can also save me."

(Gestures with his right hand, palm up.)

ROOK: "On one hand, that is me. Since what I need is this competition, this fight, in order to feel alive, the blatant acts of classic heel behavior are detrimental to my own goals. If the antics, the rule-breaking the cheating, make for an unsatisfying contest for everybody watching, it's almost certain that it'll be unsatisfying for me, and I can't abide that."

(Gestures with his left hand, palm up.)

ROOK: "On the other hand, that nuanced limitation regarding what kind of level I'll stoop to, is nothing like honor at all. Honor is chosen in an act of sacrifice of one's immediate gain for principled standards. I am in no way undertaking that kind of altruistic act. I'm acting in the interest of my own gain, which coincidentally appears to be honorable."

(Closes both hands into fists.)

ROOK: "It's enlightened self-interest."

ROOK: "I'm just a bad man who sometimes does things that also make people happy. Because people who are happy are easier to exploit."

ROOK: "I've told you that I am Rook Black, and that I am the Final Boss, and yet I did not tell you that I'm completely unlike every other Final Boss you've faced."

ROOK: "In the context of the videogame mythology, I am not a character you beat to end the game and roll the credits."

ROOK: "I am actually representing the hidden side of the mythology. I am the guy you're paying to pretend that you're a hero, when in reality you are sitting on your rear end. I'm facilitating your imagination, that you're someone who is special, someone who matters, someone who has answered the heroic call to action. I let you believe that you are not only someone who is capable of saving the world, but I also let you think that the world can be saved."

ROOK: "I am the architect of the narrative. I am the institution of the industry, who exploits your desires to engage in these fantasies, devouring your time and your money, even your thoughts and imagination."

ROOK: "And I have been laboring to let you believe that I am more vulnerable than I am. That I am somehow humble in what I've achieved."

ROOK: "Unfortunately, it's bullshit."

(ROOK drops down to the mat to roll under the bottom rope. The camera tracks him where he takes up the Triple Crown Championship where it rested on a folding chair.)

ROOK: "Unfortunately, I am very aware of what I have achieved here in NFW. I am very aware of both the reign I have maintained with the Triple Crown Championship, and with the National Title that proceeded it before the unification, and the fear among the members of the roster who were unwilling to face me."

(ROOK looks at the belt with reverence, before hiking it up onto his shoulder and focusing his attention on the camera.)

ROOK: "I have, unfortunately, known the frustration that comes from people working as hard as they can to never face me in the ring and yet declare themselves my better. And I have, quite fortunately, found ways to make certain those events can never come to pass again."

ROOK: "While it's true, that streaks are statistically insignificant, they do matter on a psychological level. They intimidate the weak minded on the wrong end of the streak, and they motivate the guy on the right side of the streak to fight harder to keep the streak going."

ROOK: "You new blood, I have been drawing you out. Inviting you to feel confident at this moment, to feel like you have something going, a hope, a prayer, courage, strength, tenacity, something that I can't possible stand against."

ROOK: "I'm telling you now, you don't stand a chance."

ROOK: "You can hurt me, you can mess me up, you can even dominate in the match. But you can't win against me. I always have, and always will, continue to find a way to take everything from you at the last possible moment just when you thought you had me beat."

ROOK: "Fortunately, you don't have to believe me."

ROOK: "Fortunately, you can't afford to believe me, since it would mean you wouldn't have the motivation to even try."

ROOK: "Fortunately, I'm only telling you this now ..."

ROOK: "So that later on, once I've shown you what you're dealing with ..."

ROOK: "Once you've had the distinctly unfortunate Rook Black experience ..."

ROOK: "Once it's no longer conjecture, but history ..."

ROOK: "I can say that I told you so."

(ROOK's smile sets a new standard for smugness as we FTB.)

 

[Nova]

Belts Off, Belts On

(FADEIN: A dark room with a single overhead light which produces a cone of bright light. It illuminates the EAGLEstar, NOVA, sitting in a folding chair, clad in a black SUPERFLY t-shirt, jeans, and gleaming EMT strap around his waist. Behind him, the silhouettes of JACK HARMEN and CALVIN CARLTON are barely visible, JACK’s arms crossed over his chest, EMT strap visible around his waist as well, and CAL with his arms folded over his front and jewelry glittering like stars spread over a dark night sky.)

NOVA: (Lighting a cigarette) “Well, here we are. You’ve got your shot. You both certainly know how to talk, so I guess we’ll see soon enough if you’re as comfortable standing across the ring from us as you are snuggling behind a microphone.”

(Taking a drag) “Let me address each of you numbskulls in turn.”

(He exhales a plume of smoke which outlines the conical shape of the light as it swirls and dances in front of his face.)

NOVA: “Phil. Philly Boy. Tell Uncle Nova the truth.”

(NOVA leans forward, a broad grin on his face.)

NOVA: “It was Eddie’s idea, right? A marketing gimmick? I mean, I’ve been racking my brain over it for days and I keep arriving at the same conclusion. You wanted a ‘comeback’ moment, and Mayfield saw an opportunity by feeding you Cripple Ryan. I smell a pre-planned career boost, and Phil-Dawg…”

(He cocks his head and exhales smoke through his nose.)

NOVA: “…the Nose Knows. It’s okay to be real with me, I’m a f*cking AUTHORITY on the subject. Look past the fog of self-loathing that coats the years 2007-09 in your memory and remember my WARS with Ryan. They were the stuff of legend. On a seemingly monthly basis, across multiple organizations, we spilled it all on the canvas in efforts to crown and re-crown this community’s pre-eminent competitor.

“So I know healthy, violent, painfully Texan Dan Ryan when I see him. I remember him when he basically resembled a gigantic sledgehammer with two smaller sledgehammers poking out of either side. And the Ego-Buster you, erm, ‘defeated’…well, I just guarantee you the backstage environment of Team Ryan immediately prior to that match must’ve closely resembled the mood before Ali shuffled out to meet Larry Holmes in 1980, so…enjoy the big win.”

(Another drag) “Of course, you’re Phil Atken, so you were expertly equipped to snuff out whatever meaningless momentum you generated off that hollow win. And snuff it out you did, with one of the absolute most horrific f*cking return in-ring promos I have ever had the misfortunate to bear witness to.” (Pointing finger at the screen) “And I only bore witness to it because some asshole mounted a flat-screen over the concessions table…and it was a DAMN FINE spread, so not even your veritable stake in the vampire heart of our ratings could draw me away…from the cheese log, or the barbeque weenies, or the stuffed mushrooms, or…”

(CAL puts a hand on NOVA’s shoulder and leans in close.)

CALVIN CARLTON: “Stay on target, Champ, you’re killin’ ‘em!”

NOVA: “Will someone please acknowledge the f*cking Elephant in the Room and tell Phil that no one cares about British political humor? It’s been the basis of his shtick for years, and it’s not selling. It’s just not. I say that because I feel like SOMEBODY would’ve said SOMETHING positive about it to me by now. But enough on that asshole”.

(The Frontier luminary snuffs his cigarette against the heel of his boot.)

NOVA: “Teddy.” (Looking off-camera) “I’m assuming someone will flash a light or something if I need to speak up over the orgasmic peals of glee from Mr. Alexander that he’s getting a genuine name-drop.

“Ted, you confuse me with your bizarre blend of mangled Norse mythology and macabre children’s tales. But what I DO understand…”

(NOVA rips his t-shirt apart, revealing another shirt with the image of a sad dying face morphed over a white marble background. Behind him, silver and black glitter jets explode next to the heads of JACK HARMEN and CALVIN CARLTON.)

NOVA: “…is Drowning Pool! And that’s the new slogan, right? Right?! Yeah, ‘Let the bodies hit the floor.’ That is just…that is great. I mean, I was pretty confident when we came up with our badass ‘SUPERFLY’ thing, because a good cohesive, creative moniker is a necessary part of tag success, but you two have put us on WATCH with the whole Drowning Pool reference. ‘Let the Bodies Hit the Floor!’ Dudes, I GET it! There was that song, back in like '98 or something, and then it was used in every American release of an Asian action movie thereafter. Yeeeeeaaaaah, best of luck to you both in the future.

“But this is about YOU, Ted. Sweet, oblivious Ted. Indignant Ted. So full of moxie. It's positively ADORABLE that you’ve already developed a Master Plan on success in the tag division, which I gues involves you taking the opportunity to double-team me with your partner at the last BRAWL. And I must say, player…”

(NOVA stands up slowly, and begins softly clapping his hands together, in unison with JACK and CALVIN.)

NOVA: “…well-done. Please hem and haw as much as you can about loyalty and who’s gonna leave who hanging when the rubber meets the road. YOU clearly know how to make the tough decisions. You know in your heart you were wise to take that opportunity when Phil held my head over the side of the ring for you to kick in…you knew.”

(Lighting another cigarette) “You knew a sack-less cheap-shot was the ONLY way you would EVER be able to pull one out over me.

“I am a Living Legend in this company. You can talk in your bizarre accent till you’re blue in the face, and that fact will never change. NFW has been around for going on thirteen years, and it took me HALF that amount of time to become only the second individual inducted to the Hall of Fame, which by the way entitles me to a veritable buffet of awesome sh*t on a daily basis that I choose not to disclose to your cheap-shotting ass at the moment.

“YOU, Ted…you are Teresa Q. You are Lord Coyner Pollard. You are the respectable midcard. Get used to it. You will NEVER upstage me, or Jack, no matter how many ill-timed chairshots you attempt or how many different ways you try to reinvent yourself, and just for the record, I’m prophesying at least one theme-oriented tag team with Cameron Cruise and a potential turn as part of a religious gimmick stable in 2014, where you don’t talk much, to the benefit of NFW v.5’s ratings.

“Because talking isn’t really your thing, is it, Ted? Great explanation for accidentally cracking your own partner over the head with a chair, by the way – ‘YEAH I MADE A DUMBASS MISTAKE, BUT AT LEAST I WAS PRESENT TO MAKE THAT DUMBASS MISTAKE!’ Duly noted. Everyone clear on that?

“You talk about Phil knowing what it takes to win…”

(The EAGLEstar shakes his head, exhaling smoke.)

NOVA: “…dude, WHAT is that guy telling you? You DO know he’s won virtually NOTHING in his roughly half a decade with this company, don’t you? We did Frontier Secret Santa last year, and Phil Atken was the only one who didn’t get a present. Phil Atken once participated in a wrestling tournament…and finished in SUPER last place. It’s worst than last, I didn’t even think such a thing existed. Unless there’s an award for running a years-long angle involving an angry midget that no one cares about, Phil’s resume could fit on a flash card and still leave room for him to scribble out one of his trainwreck in-ring disasters.

“YOU, my friend…” (Pointing his cigarette finger at the screen) “…need to learn a thing or two about your partner.”

(Mocking flex motions) “You’re gonna LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOR! You’re in BEAST MODE! I can’t tell if you’re spending your free time in a college football team’s weight room or the inside of an American tank in Afghanistan. But please, please, by all means, feel free to lecture US about ‘taking the next step.’”

(NOVA leans forward, resting his chin on his hands, doe-eyes blinking into the camera. On cue, JACK and CAL also lean forward attentively.)

NOVA: “Educate us, oh 2012 ROOKIE OF THE YEAR, on what it takes to make it to the NEXT LEVEL. ‘Cuz Jack and I are SO OBVIOUSLY in over our heads dealing with the pressure of our top billing at BRAWL 63 against Never-Was and Hasn’t-Yet.

“You describe us as ‘subpar human beings at best’…” (Jerking a thumb back towards JACK) “…and we don’t know what the hell that means. But let us be clear about what we think YOU are…a poor man's Jack Bryant (or a homeless man's Dan Ryan), whose name recognition will fade long before the names of most of the people Jack and I have beaten over the years.”

(Holding up his arms) “Oh, I’m sorry, is this where I’m getting too JOKEY for you? Is my overbearing slapstick muddying the message? Because the skillful part about comedy – and feel free to pass this along to Phil at no charge – is knowing when you don’t have to force the joke. ‘Cuz sometimes you don’t need one.”

(Taking a drag) “Sometimes reality on its own is f*cking HYSTERICAL. Case in point.”

(NOVA leans back in his chair. The EMT Title shines around his waist.)

NOVA: “You keep referencing the titles coming off, the titles coming off, blah, blah, blah, once again taking a cool, fun idea and BLEACHING it of any redeeming value simply by virtue of your constant, repeated acknowledgment that it exists…but I want you to watch carefully, Ted…”

(The EAGLEstar unclips the EMT and holds it aloft.)

NOVA: “The belt comes off…”

(He clips it back around his waist and holds out his arms.)

NOVA: “…and it goes right back on. This is a cycle you should get used to visualizing, Rookie…‘cuz you’re going to be seeing it for a LONG, LONG time.”

(FADETOBLACK.)

 

[fugginVOSS]

Re: Belts Off, Belts On

[FADE IN: on TEDDY ALEXANDER sitting in his hotel room in Oslo, sitting before his laptop. His room is simple and has a window view over Oslo. ALEXANDER sits there, arms folded across his chest as he consumes what he’s seen in response from NOVA.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“See, Nova, what you’ve failed to understand in all these communications is it doesn’t MATTER how long you’ve been on da Frontier... it doesn’t matter if your name is adorned in da Hall of Fame... it doesn’t matter if you feuded with da Plumber or carried da big one here for God knows how long.”

[TEDDY twirls a finger around in the air, mocking the legacy of the greatest wrestler in NFW history.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Coz, Nova, you never realised dat da sun is settin’ on an era dat has passed. You’re just too oblivious, or baked, to see dat curtain fall.

“But you FELT da curtain fall. You felt it. I know you felt it. Chances are... you’re STILL feelin’ it. When my boot went through your face DAT was your curtain fallin’. DAT was da end of your era. DAT was day turnin’ to night and when dat sun rises again... you’ll witness da dawnin’ of my success as those belts get tugged from your beaten bodies in front of da World right here in Oslo.”

[Snicker.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Da past. You livin’ legends sure love livin’ in da past. You sure don’t like turnin’ da page. You can’t stand da thought of your legacy evaporatin’ and MINE rainin’ down like a monsoon. All you can do is take shelter, Nova. Coz you can’t stand da rain.

“Blood rain.

“YOUR – blood.”

[Snort. TEDDY’s hulking up.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“See, what YOU think of Phil doesn’t mean a thin’ to me. What JACK thinks of Phil means just as much. What TEDDY ALEXANDER...” (thumbs to chest) “...thinks of Phil is all dat matters and right now, when I stand across dat ring... when I smack him accidentally in da head with a chair... when I use him as a weapon, puttin’ HIS body on da line, for my gain... when I put da fear of GOD into him... I know dat EACH – AND –EVERY TIME Phil will keep standin’ there. By my side. Shoulder-to-shoulder. Coz we’re a team, Nova. We’ve been bonded by fate and there’s no stoppin’ us now.”

[Nods in testament to his own words.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“And if da only thing dat ties you two clowns together is da fact dat you’ve both won a lot of matches in da nineties, bong moths and have an affinity for stupid catch phrases then I PITY you. “

[Snarl.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“ In case you haven’t been keepin’ score, Nova, you and Jack haven’t even retained your belts ONCE. You haven’t kept those belts, dat apparently never come off, around your waists once.

“Calvin has. CALVIN retained your belts.

“CALVIN stopped those belts from comin’ off.

“CALVIN is da only man in your merry band of misfits dat has retained your EMT Championship belts.

“You two?” (shakes his head) “You two haven’t done squat with ‘em since you won ‘em all da way back at BRAWL fifty-four in Hershey. In case you idiots haven’t realised, da Frontier has had eleven shows since you illustrious legends won da titles. Twelve by da time by da time we meet in dat ring.

“And in those twelve shows you’ll have defended ‘em just once.” (holds up a single finger) “Once. Just ONE – TIME, Nova. And in dat one defense you relied on da chicanery of some asshole with a Prince racquet in hand to save your skins.

“And YOU think you can SIT – THERE, restin’ on your laurels, expectin’ da rest of da Frontier to take da knee and BOW to you? You got another thing comin’.

“If you think defendin’ them belts one time in seven fuckin’ months makes you da monolith I can’t climb then you got a second thing comin’.

“And if you think for just one minute your heralded reign as Everette Memorial Champions is gonna last another day after you climb inside dat ring with me and Phil you’ve got your whole world crashin’ down around your feet, Nova.

“I don’t care about you. I don’t care about your legacy. You can make jokes about my accent, where I came from, where you think my career is gonna end up and how many presents you gave Atken for Christmas but ONE –THING is matter of fact, Nova...”

[Snicker.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Phil Atken and Teddy Alexander will have da last laugh. “

[TEDDY, wound up and on fire.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Calvin Carlton... Calvin... I swear to GOD...” (points down the camera’s barrel) “...if you put one foot inside of dat ring... I promise you... I fuckin’ promise you dat I’ll take dat tennis racquet and beat you beyond recognition until da only thing they’ll have left to bury is da DNA left on dat racquet.

“DAT’S... a promise.”

[His voice is quivering and quaking as he gives in to the rage boiling up within him. He’s almost shouting every second word. His face is reddening as the passion unleashes from within him.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“Nova... Jack... I AM a tank. I am a tank. I’m a WEAPON of MASS destruction. I’m a tank. I’m a tank and my cannon’s aimed. My cannon’s aimed right at you and it’s locked and loaded. It’s ready to fire. And when it fires da only thing dat will be left remainin’ inside dat ring in Oslo is a PUDDLE of BLOOD and THOSE – BELTS!

“Those belts dat just NEVER come off.

(points a finger at himself) “And then WE’LL – be da ONES – LAUGHIN’ da LOUDEST!”

[Cue: brain snap. TEDDY bursts to his feet, mule kicking the chair out from under him.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“LAUGHIN’ DA FUCKIN’ LOUDEST, NOVA! LAUGHIN’ DA FUCKIN’ LOUDEST!”

[Spinning around, TEDDY picks the chair up off the ground, smashes it into the wall in one throw before returning to the camera, his face as red as a tomato from the rage that’s boiled up inside him. Coming up so close almost forcing the laptop’s camera out of focus.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“I WANT THOSE BELTS! I WANT YOUR FUCKIN’ SCALP!”

[TEDDY tears the shirt off his body and tosses it at the ground. Then he stomps it. He then puts his hands beneath the queen size bed and flips it over in one heave. Spittle hangs from his mouth and veins pop up on his neck.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER:
“I WILL BREAK YOUR NECK, NOVA! WE’RE TAKIN’ THOSE GOD DAMN BELTS!”

[TEDDY makes a violent belt gesture at his waist. Smashes a ham sized fist against his hear before running his hands down the length of his face, trying to calm himself down. His shoulders rise and fall as the adrenaline slowly courses out of his system.]

TEDDY ALEXANDER: (between greedy gasps of oxygen)
“Let da bodies... (gasp)...hit... (gasp) ...da flooooorrrrrr!”

[He lunges forward and snaps shut the laptop’s lid.]

[FADE to BLACK!]

 

[Ford]

Re: Belts Off, Belts On

(FADEIN: EXT of the Aikuisten Lelukauppa in Hellsinki, Finland.

INT. Jack Harmen meanders around the most famous sex shop in Finland, surrounded by the paraphernalia of a dominatrix. Harmen wears a large unbuttoned tie dyed parka over top of a Superfly Express t-shirt which covered the bulge of the Everett strap still wrapped around his waist. He's casually munching on a box of girl scout cookies as he wanders the aisles. He passes by and catches eyes with a young blonde girl wearing a knitted white sweater with a blue scarf and blue gloves. As the two pass, the girl continues looking over her shoulder as Harmen turns to keep the gaze. Eventually, she breaks it, and Harmen smiles. He looks to his right, and sees a rather large dildo strap on, with the Superfly Express logo on the box. The tag line reads "Their belts never come off, and neither will this once you strap it on!" He chuckles.)

JACK HARMEN: Nice.

(Harmen frowns.)

JACK HARMEN: Strange we weren't consulted, but I guess Fiona has a lot on her mind these days. Like how she can possibly market two of the most unmarketable superstars in NFW history. Angry brute who requires the NFW legal board to pay residuals every time he uses his catch phrase, and a record scratching stuck on loop Scottish man who refuses to wear a kilt.

(HARMEN grabs the camera.)

JACK HARMEN: Are you to good to go commando Phil? Or just to scared the fancy broads would get one look at your tiny beans and frank and decide to run for the hills? Cause you two are as close to dickless as two adult men can be. Here. Lemme buy you each a SUPERFLY strap-on so you can pretend you have balls.

(HARMEN grabs two of the dildos and places it in his basket.)

JACK HARMEN: Free of charge.

(HARMEN tosses his head back.)

JACK HARMEN: It doesn't take BALLS to throw someone off the top of the cage Teddy, that I'll tell ya.

(Harmen rubs his shoulder. The bandage pokes out underneath his t-shirt.)

JACK HARMEN: It takes balls to let yourself get THROWN OFF! You did EXACTLY what I thought you would, what I know you ALWAYS will. You MESS UP, you get CARRIED AWAY, and you make a mistake. You know how many cage matches I've won by being TOSSED off the top of the cage to the outside?

(Harmen pauses, stops in place.)

JACK HARMEN: Wait. I actually don't even remember that. So it must be a lot. But a win's a win Teddy. And when you're a champion? A DQ or a count out is just as sweat as a pin.

(Harmen lunges to the camera and grabs the edge, shaking it.)

JACK HARMEN: BUT IT'S NOT. It's SO unfulfilling. Like a tofu dessert. Like fucking the fat friend, It WORKS, but it's not what I REALLY WANTED!

(Harmen smiles, and lets go of the camera.)

JACK HARMEN: I'm scaring the horny people. But Teddy, what I want is to see you go into mindless rage beast mode. And honestly, the only time I or anybody else likes you is when you're destroying people. Preferably people other than me. But I will instigate, I will coax the monster to walk off the deep end, stab the lion's paw with a giant thorn. I'll make Teddy get so wrapped up in the moment, so frustrated and uncontrollable, the strength of Atken and Alexander will become it's weakness. Phil, one crazy person judging another? Teddy is a liability. He will get you disqualified. Count on it.

(Harmen shrugs.)

JACK HARMEN: Cause I'm gonna make it happen. I'm gonna draw it out of him. I'm going to instigate. I'm going to have Teddy Alexander seeing so much red he's going to think his eyes have started bleeding. Poke the beast, slap the monster, and watch him burn his whole world down. Then, after the next time, and the next time, and the NEXT time Teddy tries to come after these straps and FAILS because he's too quick to go into crazy rage mode, he'll realize he'll NEVER be a champion. He'll NEVER win the big one. Not until he calms the inner beast. Sure, he can have a lot of fun in the middle of the show tearing apart Varga or Bandit, but you'll never have the focus and intelligence to take these Everett straps.

(Harmen laughs, an evil haunting laugh.)

JACK HARMEN: And that's the funny thing Teddy! Because the moment you become worthy to be a champion, the moment the monster becomes humanized and becomes a REAL MAN in control instead of the equivalent of a child throwing a tantrum... heh, well, that's the day everything I love about Teddy Alexander DIES, and I have no choice but to euthanize the tamed beast with a decapitating Locomotive.

Because everyone likes seeing you rip apart unworthy wastes of wrestling tights limb from limb Teddy. Most people want to see you do that to Phil, me include... BUT! NO one wants to see you WIN! They want to see you toss luchadors around the ring like rag dolls and then get WHAT THE BULLY HAS COMING TO HIM. I've heard the story of David and Goalith paralleled a million times. And GOALITH NEVER WINS.

(Harmen shakes his head from side to side.)

JACK HARMEN: You won NOTHING in Laos. You didn't win the match. You didn't make me SCARED of you. In fact, you SHOWED ALL YOUR CARDS. You showed me you're just an animal. You're the big bad wolf...

(Harmen laughs.)

JACK HARMEN: You've never read the Three Little Pigs have you? Then again, it is an apt comparison. Cause you can stand there, huffin' and puffin' 'bout how the belts comin' off. You've said they're coming off more times than we've said they're never comin' off. Throwing your little verbal tantrum, spewing poisonless venom, when it's just a matter of time before SUPERFLY, just like the three little pigs, sends the big big bad wolf packing... DEFEATED.

(In the background, Calvin Carlton holds up a large box.)

CALVIN CARLTON: Hey! A Lindsay Troy blow up doll! I'm totally getting one of these!

(Harmen's eyes frown.)

JACK HARMEN: … They make those?

(Carlton rushes over to Harmen's side.)

CALVIN CARLTON: I'm gonna go pretend I'm Joey Melton.

(Carlton walks off.)

JACK HARMEN: Wildcard bitches. We've got Calvin. We have no intention of using Calvin, but Carlton? Well, he's his own man, and I respect him for that. If he wants to get involved with a tennis racket and put his mind, body and soul on the line to be Superfly, I say let him earn his stripes. And I say to you, be prepared for ANY, and EVERYTHING that can happen in that wrestling ring.

(Harmen smiles.)

JACK HARMEN: Which is actually why you make such a great team with Phil Atken. The strategist, the ring veteran, and the muscle, the uncontrollable puppet. Atken's seen everything there is in that ring. We've known each other for a long time Phil. Ten years, out of everyone from that locker room a decade ago, you're the SECOND last person I expected to see across that ring.

My how times change.

You've come a long way. You've beaten the empty husk of a mentally departed Dan Ryan. You've lost to the World Champion Castor in a Custerfuck finish. And you've had success outside of NFW and all around the world, the type of success most wrestlers DREAM of. You even beat Nova. Kudos.

Of course you had to have your friend and partner hit you and cause a DQ to do it, and until the past seven months your NFW career has been nothing short of an unmitigated disaster... but hey... I've never said congratulations.

(Harmen smiles.)

JACK HARMEN: And YET... all the accomplishments, 2012 Rookie of the year, galactic championships... it all pails in comparison to the legacy of the superflyest athletes this sport has ever seen. Cause when the Anti Gravity Dig-Dug-Diggity Starscreaming Mushroom-Eating King of Hallucination Nation and Your Time Traveling Snow Selling Friendly Neighborhood Lunatic, the highest of High Flyers head to Hellsinki, expect chaos. Expect us to THRIVE on anarchy, and REALIZE...

(Harmen grabs the camera by it's sides and steps to an extreme close up.)

JACK HARMEN: You two are out of your league. I will do everything it takes to retain these Everett Memorial straps. It's not just about the titles to me anymore. It's about family.

(Harmen looks over his shoulder, and sees Carlton finalizing his exchange for the blow up doll. He hand gently rubs the title belt underneath his Superfly t-shirt.)

JACK HARMEN: And WE will not let you strip away the glue that holds us together.

(Harmen shakes the camera violently, pulling it out of the cameraman's hands.)

JACK HARMEN: You can leave me drooling in a puddle of Superfly blood. You can SNAP my neck!! Skin me head to toe and let my body hit the floor! But YOU CAN NOT HAVE THESE BELTS! NEVER! EVER! EVER!

(Harmen smiles.)

JACK HARMEN: We'll make sure of it.

(Harmen pulls the camera away from his face and frames himself in an awkward medium shot.)

JACK HARMEN: Any means necessary.

(Harmen relaxes his hands, letting the camera drop to the floor, shattering to static.)

 

[Colin]

Re: Belts Off, Belts On

We find our dearest Phil Atken in his very own hotel room in Oslo, he is lounging around on his VERY MESSY bed while above the wall appears to be a large series of cracks where Teddy and Phil's rooms meet. Perhaps some kind of training based accident, WHO KNOWS?

Atken: "I'm sorry, I didn't realise we were still living in the year AUGHT NINE... still Nova wanted them gloves to come oh. Boy how, he be shooting from the hip. I would apologise to any American offended at the complete slurring your useful and damn right offensive accept but I do have the occasional enjoyment of indulging myself. Still... with the way Nova managed to stumble his way in front of a camera and utter live in my past, analyse my failures, why if this was the year AUGHT NINE, I'd be red in the face. I'd demand respect, I'd want to be acknowledged as a serious NFW competitor who could scrap with the best. Ah, sweet Nova, sweet old over the hill, wishing he was still in NFW West and wasn't about to lose his tag title and his career, ah that Nova, that Nova. You thought you were fighting that Phil, didn't ya? You were kinda wishin', hopin' perhaps even dreamin' I was still that idiot. Maybe you should talk to yer partner more, maybe you should gain a little bit of understanding of the man I am now... not that you'd want to. Much easier to draw that line, call it a day and hope you succeed on a wing and a prayer."

Phil sits up from his lounging position and begins to rummage around a laptop bag that is found by his bedside.

Atken: "You know, just because you don't acknowledge the more recent past guys, just because you close your eyes, join hands and wish REALLY hard that we didn't take those belts off in Australia, maybe you would wish that Calvin Carlton didn't save your rumps last time we met in the ring. Maybe you could wish that you've actually proven yourself as worthy tag team champions. Maybe if you close your eyes really hard, furrow your brows really tightly, hell maybe if you hold hands as tight as the tightest bros could ever tight a tight, maybe you could wish that me and Teddy haven't shown time and time again that it's not a matter of IF we take them belts off, it's a matter of WHEN we take those belts off.

I see no better time that Oslo."

Phil manages to retrieve whatever his hunt was for out of his ole baggy and closes it up.

Atken: This may surprise you... then again I think the change of seasons surprises both you and Harmen Novie but attacking my past, it's meaningless bluster, it's a pathetic kind of divide and conquer technique. You want to try and chip away at what has proven to be a rather successful team, you want Teddy to worry about me, you want to put him on edge during the match, you want him just at that little tipping point where he's a loaded gun ready to go off in my face. Then again, maybe I'm giving you too much credit, perhaps instead... did you want me to stand here and dive in to that open grave you tried to dig for me Nova? Was I supposed to let that overwhelming sense of past failure just boil up in the inside of me to the point I jump off a bridge? Maybe the Eiffel Tower on the way back home? Was that the plan, victory through forfeit because poor lil Phil went all weepy. I'm a man who knows my past Nova, I'm very well acquainted with it in fact, mostly due to that whole living it thing.

Phil holds a sheet of paper in front of the camera as it slowly zooms in.

Atken: Here it is, my NFW win-loss record, quite a depressing sight all told. It's the career version of that last bit of water circling the toilet drain and yet never quite managing to be flushed away. It just circles and circles. That's where I was and perhaps you were reading off that scorecard Nova. I don't know if you've ever made much efforts to understand this world in which we live in. The past, that's certainly an event to learn from, something for small children to read from perhaps a rather chunky textbook, the conversation you have with a friend where you ask if they "remember that guy", that guy is certainly in your past. That record, the moments with Teresa Q, the moments with Dirk and Helga... shameful, that's what they were.

Perhaps though, you should stay in contact with your esteemed Superfly partner more often though. Maybe you and Jack need to have some more of that heart to heart time. Jack could have perhaps educated you on my recent achievements... now sure not all of them come from an NFW ring, perhaps that may be the only thing that matters in your book. Yet, I would say a good wrestler, he doesn't rest on his laurels, he doesn't do that cursory flip through the tapes, the videos, the history and call it a day. An aging veteran counting down his days until his Miami Care Home, sure, he may be able to turn it on when those lights shine ever so bright but the danger is growing ever closer and arrogance, that's what pushes it over the edge.

Phil balls up the sheet of paper and tosses it to the side.

Atken: The truth, and I like to deal in truth as best I can, the truth is... Superfly, mind games may not be your forte. Perhaps stick to japes and jockery, it seems to fit your niche. After all, Nova just spent the best part of a half hour parroting everything that I admitted to myself, time he'd have better spent training and get... AHAHAH, ah, that was a funny one. Still, I don't hide from it, I don't shy away from it, I'm very open about my past, Teddy knows about my past, if your big plan was to drive that wedge in between, drive in that chisel and get by on your defense by the skin of your teeth then I have to say guys, it's a failing grade. Reminding myself of those failures is EXACTLY WHY I stand here right now. So, you guys need a back up plan, no? Surely that plan can't be to hope Carlton's collection of sports goods saves the day again. That would be very naïve. There are after all... contingencies for such things. No, I'll tell you exactly WHY none of your schemes, none of your burials, none of that oxygen you wasted matters...

This is my chance to MEAN SOMETHING in NFW, this is my chance to finally make that mark that I've failed to do all these years. To have a real accolade, not one I repeat over and over, hoping people don't ask for context... like the fact I'm the guy to defeat Nova and Dan Ryan... I don't want to cling on to that. I want something solid, something real, something I can point to and say I DID that, I overcome and I did that. Teddy can use me as a damn human baseball bat for all I care, so long as we walk out with the belts. Teddy could maim me, cripple me, take my head clean off, so long as that head ends up rolling on top of Jack Harmen or Nova, I'm over the fucking moon. Teddy WILL deliver, I will deliver. Perhaps you wanted me to fear Teddy, Teddy to get irate with me. Perhaps that will happen. Doesn't matter. Me and Teddy, we were almost there before, we ran over every other team in D.C. WE can win and WE will win. You have to start facing the truth, you can cling on to the notions of the past, you can point to the peaks of your careers for validation and yet, it doesn't stop Atken and Alexander from being the greatest threat you will ever have.

I can't help but smile, thought of making those belts come off, the thought of Nova going down to a man he has portrayed as NFW's biggest loser, things that will come to pass... I'm glad Oslo has snow because it's gonna be like Christmas in February.

 

[brusch]

Final Round: FIGHT

“And so here we are, aren’t we…all our cards, laid out to bare for all the world to see.”

(The camera opens to Leyenda de Ocho in front of a very pixelated NFW backdrop. He wears his battle-hardened Link mask; forest green with a golden triforce emblazoned upon the forehead, beams of light emanating from the center. He sits upon a stool, a contemplative look in his emerald eyes.)


Ocho: “Dragon-san has made his claims, like we all have, that he will be the start of something new. Something greater. He ignores my honest sentiments that I am truly not overlooking his talents, his ring prowess, his experience…perhaps to give himself a mental edge, perhaps give himself the courage we all will need in order to fulfill this daunting task. And it’s fine – really. If he wants to see insult in my words, if he chooses to frame his own truth outside the realm of reality, I understand why he would. Some people need that style of motivation in this situation. Some people need to believe they’re a wildly disrespected underdog and lash out at all others like a cornered animal…I get it. I’ve been the underdog my whole career, Dragon-san. A perceived slight can shine like a bonfire in your eyes…but you need to know, your motivations are false. I do respect you, Dragon-san. I know what you bring to the table, and I know that I will have to bring all the skill in the world to get past you. That’s the difference between you and I…while you dismiss the rest of us as fools who would overlook a man like you, I am completely aware of what is being brought to the table. You have a bigger target on your back than you think.

Jesse Ramey embraces his stubbornness…and in a way, it’s admirable. Like I once said, I myself can completely appreciate the belief in throwing every part of yourself into something because of your pure-hearted belief in something good and righteous. However, I also stand by what I said before – your stubbornness will be your downfall. There’s a fine line between standing for something, being true to who you are with no questions asked, and drinking the proverbial Kool-Aid for a false ideal…and you’ve crossed it. You’re a man of immense experience – immense experience, and perhaps immensely jaded views. You’ve seen too much, Jesse. You’ve seen what can really happen when you believe in yourself more than anyone else and the rug gets pulled out from under you…and I’m sorry. The past can’t be changed. No one can take your decades-long career and give you the world championships you may have once deserved. And I will not be the one to step aside for a man past his prime who would bring dishonor to the Triforce.

And Boogie Smallz…Boogie Smallz. You have proven to a T the one criticism I’ve given you – your overwhelming ego and misguided anger has blinded you. The minute I don’t bring your name up directly is the minute you fire yourself up and call me fake, call me greedy, ignore everything in my heart and chew out the superficial. You spend a thousand words saying something I can say in six – ‘you don’t got what I got’. And you need to understand – it’s not just good enough to win our fatal four-way. It’s not just good enough to make it to Rook Black at the end of the night. When you climb Mount Everest, it’s only considered a success when you make it to the top and also back down. And every ounce of me is going to be focused on completing my mission in Helsinki. Call it arrogance if you want to take Dragon-san’s cue. I call it ‘elevated expectations’.”

(Ocho stands from the stool and smiles openly to the camera.)


Ocho: “Rook Black…I knew you’d come through. I knew if I pushed you hard enough, if I found the buttons that make a man like you tick, all would be revealed. You see, the true beauty that comes from claiming your role as GameStop employee? You enable all my victories. You open the Pandora’s Box that is my mind and allow my passion, my pure creativity to flow like a an overwhelming torrent of joy that permeates the fans, that permeates the battleground that we call a wrestling ring.

It’s backfire, Rook. It’s hubris and it’s oversight to succumb to the boredom a barbarian like you must feel on a throne. I know I can’t intimidate you with size, with my heart, with any accolades, with any threats or any false bravado. But that’s where heroes succeed where villains fail, Rook – villains are the only ones with such a bruised sense-of-self that they need to pursue the route of intimidation. I know the journey I must overcome – and while you say you don’t, deep down, you should. You should understand that it’s going to be me at the end of the night standing across from you in that ring. You should understand that it’s going to be me who comes at you like a beacon of light, emboldened and impassioned by the quest, by the opportunity for real enlightenment with the Triforce. That it’s going to be ME, a man who’s tasted failure, a man who’s too small and too nerdy to be a wrestling juggernaut, a man who was never ‘supposed’ to overthrow giants and make waves in the world of wresting but did it anyway, who defies odds on a NIGHTLY BASIS, who is every ounce of fire, passion and heart that exists in this world that will face you like a man with NOTHING TO LOSE.

You can’t take away my heart, Rook. You can’t take away my vision. My passion. The world of possibilities I will open up to the WORLD.

But I CAN take your Triforce and make it something glorious once again. And in front of the thousands of fans poured into Hartwall Arena, one thought will reverberate deep within your mind as I pin your shoulders to the mat…

GAME. OVER.”

(Fade to black.)

 

[Mad Dog]

Re: Final Round: FIGHT

(FADEIN to an empty Hartwell Arena in Helsinki, the site of BRAWLHALLA Night One. Boogie Smallz is standing in the ring with a microphone in hand and a cameraman positioned outside of the ropes to capture the footage. Smallz looks at his surroundings and soaks in the moment before he begins to speak.)

BOOGIE SMALLZ: Ladies and gentlemen watchin’ this at home, this is the site of future historical significance. The place were I make my mark in this company. Where I carve my name in the NFW history books as the man that bested three other competitors to earn a shot in the main event and then went on to defeat Rook Black, end his lengthy title reign, and become (In his best ring announcer impression.) the NEW Triple Crown champion!

And much like the Hollywood elite on Oscar night…I may have an acceptance speech prepared. Thank all the LITTLE people that made it possible. “Little” by meanin’ the cruiserweights I destroyed earlier in the evenin’ to gain the title shot. Then go on to thank the Academy…aka Eddie Mayfield, for bein’ gullible enough to issue an open challenge to the world, havin’ me accept that challenge, and showin’ him and everyone here that when you open your mouth…be prepared to acknowledge the consequences. (Smirks.) I would thank the family…but fuck them…they didn’t do a damn thing for me to get here in the first place!

(Smallz comes closer to the camera and stares into it intensely.)

As for my opponents, I think some of them are startin’ to come to the realization that no matter what they say or do…they can’t stop the inevitable. While others refuse to accept the fact that shortly after this match at BrawlHalla…they get to move on to potentially greener pastures in the Grand Prix with a chance to fight Impulse for the richest prize in this organization. Me? I get no such love.

One would think that this would sink in…that they would comprehend that if they saved themselves from the ass whoopin’ I’m gonna give them in this match…that they stand a better chance against their equals in the Grand Prix.

They have a backup plan, a fail-safe, a net to catch them when they fizzle out from this match. I don’t have that to fall back on…this is it for me on this tour. Who’s to say when another title shot will come my way? That’s why I want them all to understand where I’m comin’ from and how I will stop at nothin’ of achievin’ my objective.

In a way, I prefer it that way. I wouldn’t want any thoughts creepin’ into my mind about how in two weeks at Reloaded in Amsterdam…I get another chance to prove myself. That maybe I won’t fight that hard in this one…that I will do like that evil black man said, and save myself for the big one.

I guess if they looked at the big picture…maybe these guys would see things the way I do. But I’m dealin’ with short-sighted mentally and vertically challenged individuals who don’t have the ability to think three steps ahead at all times…let alone three matches ahead to do what’s in the best interest of their futures.

(Smallz steps back and rolls his shoulders, loosening himself up before continuing.)

Jesse Ramey is stuck out in the ocean somewhere on a makeshift raft tryin’ to get himself back to civilization. No one filed a missin’ persons report on him. Why? Because no one cares. Ramey is havin’ his own version of the Carnival Triumph cruise ship tragedy at sea. No tellin’ what type of condition he will be in if he survives…let alone makes it to Helsinki for this match.

Orange Dragon II is probably thankin’ his lucky stars that he gets to be listed on the marquee for the first time in his career. A high profile match, without question…probably the biggest highlight you’ve experienced since you entered the world of professional wrestling. THAT in itself is a victory for you. But sadly, sir…that is the only victory you will witness in Helsinki. But hey…it’s a moral victory…so at least you’ve got that goin’ for you.

Leyenda de Ocho, you said it yourself…you’ve been “an underdog your entire career”. And how many years has that illustrious career of yours spanned? Not even one full year as best I can tell. Generally speakin’, most guys with just nine months of experience will always be considered an underdog. So save that attempt at an emotionally rousin’ speech for some other match down the line. If that’s what you need for motivation, I suggest you do some deep soul searchin’ and find a new source for your inspiration.

You can make comparisons to climbin’ Mount Everest all you want, but the one thing you failed to calculate in your assessment of my ability in this match is that I’ve been there…done that. I’ve climbed to the top of the mountain…and when I was there I whipped my dick out and took a piss off the ledge like the imp on Game of Thrones when he was on top of the wall.

The only “elevated expectations” that I have for you is when I lift you up above my head…then proceed to dump you on it when you Face Tha Music and get your shoulders pinned for the three count.

(Boogie mean mugs the camera for a moment. He rubs his chin and moves on to the final topic of discussion.)

Rook Black comes out on TV and says he is a supervillain. I’m sorry, Rook…but I guess I missed them goin’ over that in my New Frontier orientation. Is that supposed to scare me? Send chills down my spine? Does it appear that the look of concern has rushed over my face? (Smallz stands expressionless.) Maybe that’s the game you and Ocho play with the whole Tri-force and Final Boss shenanigans…but don’t expect me to fall in line and go along with it.

I’m far from a hero. I’m not the type to come in and save the day unless I have somethin’ to gain out of it. Unlike our pal Ocho, this isn’t a game to me. I don’t look at life through the eyes of a prepubescent child…I’m a grown ass man. The toys and games have been put away for quite some time. All that’s left is anger and resentment from my past experiences in every company I have ever been apart of. I channel that bitterness and rage into what I do in the ring. Which if you don’t know by now…I pretty much fuck people up.

You’ve escaped time after time by the skin of your teeth and somehow kept that title around your waist. A tough feat to accomplish, but then again…you’ve never had to face a man like me at any point durin’ your streak. While you may consider me to be “new blood”…I’ve been in this business a long time. Done a lot of shit…seen a lot of shit. I’m ready for whatever you throw my way. Just don’t be shocked when I catch what you throw and shove if down your throat!

Yeah…you “told me so”. That sounds like somethin’ somebody’s parents would say when they were a kid. Thanks for the notice, pops. I think I’ll take my chances. That may work on Ocho, but don’t think that patronizin’ bullshit is gonna work with me. I’ve already given you fair warnin’ on what happens when we step into the ring in Helsinki.

No I told ya so’s. No Final Boss childish bullshit. Just me straight up whoopin’ your ass and walkin’ out with the Triple Crown championship.

Deny it all you want. Swear up and down it won’t happen. But in the end…ya best…

BELIEVE ‘DAT!

(Smallz drops the mic like he owned someone in a freestyle rap competition. FADE TO BLACK)

 

[Nova]

Good Job, Good Effort.

(FADEIN: NOVA seated in a chair, the EMT Title strapped, as it always is, around his waist. Like with last time, JACK HARMEN and CALVIN CARLTON flank him on either side.)

NOVA: “Eli Flair set my head on fire in a cage.

“Mike Randalls raped my mind in his intergalactic locker room.

“Cojones Mercado cracked a chair over my skull and gave me a head injury SO SEVERE that I’m still experiencing legitimate medical issues YEARS after the fact.”

(Lighting a cigarette) “But YOU, Ted…you’ve got your chest puffed out over kicking me in the head? THAT’S the turning point of my career?”

(Laughing) “Right. End of an Era, no doubt. Let me guess what’s scribbed in Crayon in your day planner for next week…are ya gonna give a CHAIRSHOT to the WORLD CHAMPION and forever change his destiny by interfering in his CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH?”

(NOVA mocks a sad look into the camera.)

NOVA: “You’re only twenty-five years late to run the world, Ted. Nowadays it takes five finishing moves and a chainsaw soaked in AIDS to even get a three-count.”

(Taking a drag) “You say WE’RE living in the past? In some past glory? Do you know where you ARE, you delusional sonuvabitch?” (Slapping the belt around his waist) “This is OUR title defense. Jack and I are the third and fourth individuals, respectively, to individually hold separate singles championships and then come together as a tag team to win the EMTs. Yet you treat us like we’re banging our walkers on the front door of the company begging to be let back in. I’ve never heard of defending champions so bewilderingly labeled as washed-up has-beens.”

(Jerking a thumb towards HARMEN) “Me and this guy? We are living the f*cking DREAM. We’re the hottest thing going in the Frontier…(leaning in, cupping his mouth)…and we haven’t peaked yet. By the time we’re done, SUPERFLY will be the most decorated, meaningful tag team in NFW history.

“And WE’RE living in the past? F*CK to the No. We’re living RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW, because right here and right now KICKS ASS, and Jack and I are at the top of our sh*t.

“You and Phil, on the other hand, sound like an abusive poly-amorous duo that developed an unhealthy dynamic over a mutual love affair with Grand Marnier and Texas Hold ‘Em. ‘IF HE BEATS ME, IT’S JUST BECAUSE HE CARES SO MUCH!”

“By the way, Ted, not that I particularly care, but if you want to eventually mean something around here, it might be good to understand the importance of history here in NFW. I didn’t win some meaningless series of submission falls in the late nineties, kid. Go back and watch some tape. This WILL be on the final exam.

“And Phil, mind-games may not be my forte, but wrestling isn’t yours, so who’s really in trouble here?

“I’m glad you can smile, buddy. I’m glad that the thought of winning makes you happy. Because you’ve had to sustain yourself throughout your career on happy thoughts, and I don’t get the sense that’s going to change anytime soon. If the ‘Good Job, Good Effort’ Diet is working for you, then you have my blessing, though you best watch the carbs because I heard you can gain the weight back…” (snapping his fingers) “…like that.”

(Taking a drag) “We’ll see you in Oslo, boys. We’re ou-”

(CALVIN leans down, whispering in NOVA’s ear.)

NOVA: “Oh. Right. Apparently there have been rumblings that ‘El Presidente’ EDDIE MAYFIELD is putting an open challenge on the floor to all comers, and further rumblings that maybe I’d take him up on it given our history…but let me clear the air and say I have no intentions of doing that. For one thing, I’ve got Never-Was and Hasn’t-Yet to deal with…”

(Taking a drag) “…and secondly, when I want my shot at Mayfield I’ll TAKE it because it’s time to murder him in the face, not because he deigned to make himself available. Eddie will be around, guys. He’s not going anywhere. He will continue to soak up spotlight and airtime because he is the rock band that has fourteen farewell tours.

“He is KISS. And I hate to denigrate KISS by such a reference, but the parallels are just too obvious.”

(Quick FADEOUT to a black screen and the word SUPERFLY in Day-Glo Hubba Bubba font.)

 

[Ford]

Re: Good Job, Good Effort.

(MULTIPLE BURSTS OF STATIC. FADEIN: The Superfly logo in Day-Glo Hubba Bubbafont, as Jack Harmen TEARS through it and we return to the very last scene.)

JACK HARMEN: Novs, you've said all that needs to be said, but I feel I have to interject here. As a competitor in NFW's Grand Prix, know that my focus is entirely on our tag team title defense in Helsinki Know that I have every intention of walking to that arena, and doing everything in my power to make sure we walk out with the straps,RIGHT where they belong.

Atken and Alexander want to live in their revisionist present? The reality is Double A is nothing but a footnote in establishing the legacy of two of the greatest singles wrestlers coming together to be SUPA-FLY!

(Calvin Carlton leans in and whispers into Harmen's ear. Harmen nods in understanding.)

JACK HARMEN: You're right Cal. Absolutely right.

(Harmen strokes his goatee while wearing his tie dyed parka.)

JACKHARMEN: I'm sorry Phil. Keep dreaming. Keep hoping for your legacy.But it's not going to come from OUR expense.

(Harmen rubs the strap around his waist. Nova slaps his belt with the palm of his hand.)

JACK HARMEN: Cause, well...

(Harmen smiles, playfully.)

JACK HARMEN: You've already shown us how we can beat you. Insecurity and rage are your Achilles heel. We won't be so kind to show you ours.

(Harmen leans forward, grabbing the camera by it's side.)

JACK HARMEN: These belt's ain't ever comin' off.

CALVIN CARLTON: Aces Jack. ACES

JACK HARMEN: And there ain't a damn thing you two can do about it.

(Harmen shoves the camera away from his face, forcing the cameraman to fall to the ground. As the cameraman recovers, Nova and Harmen discuss strategy, as Calvin Carlton steps forward.)

CALVIN CARLTON: (quickly & softly) And if you two win, know that I'm always looking for new clients.

(NOVA and HARMEN turn, starring at Calvin with a death glare. Calvin tugs at his shirt collar.)

CALVIN CARLTON: Just... not right now.

(Calvin turns to Superfly and raises his hand high.)

CALVIN CARLTON: Superfly-High-Five?

(Nova shakes his head from side to side and walks off frame. Harmen stands,starring at Carlton.)

CALVIN CARLTON: Don't leave me hanging!

(Carlton shoves his hand into Harmen's face.)

CALVIN CARLTON: Face five. Yeah!

(FADETOBLACK as Harmen GLARES at a increasingly freaked out Calvin Carlton.)