February 22, 2018, 08:59:25 AM

Show Posts

This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.

Topics - xiv

Pages: [1] 2 3 ... 11
Sports and Fighting / A little NXT Takeover: Dallas Preview
« on: March 20, 2016, 03:46:52 PM »
Hey SHOOTers... I did a little something for belote's website (Did you guys KNOW he had a website?)

Anyway, I'm a huge NXT mark, and am giddily excited for Takeover: Dallas.  So it inspired me ot do a little writing.  If you're interested:


The Epicenter / Don't Get Your Hopes Up
« on: February 13, 2016, 06:32:23 PM »
Kennedy Crossan Elementary School
Philadelphia, PA
Wednesday February 10th

Inside the Kennedy Crossan Elementary School in Northeast Philadelphia a brunette beauty known to the entirety of the SHOOT-iverse, Abigail Chase, sits patiently in the school’s main office.  The day ending activities bustle around her, but also slow down when they walk by her.   A few parents check out this stranger as the Principal went through the day’s ending announcements.  Abigail casually scrolls through her email as she awaits the school day to end so she can get on with the task at hand.   

The announcements wrap up. 

The bell rings.

Chaos ensues as every room in the four story old stone school house explodes with children.  A greying secretary, says in a thick Philadelphia accent.

Secretary:  You’s might wanna wait a couple minutes for the halls to empty.

Abigail gives a knowing nod, and goes back to her work.  She shifts nervously as the noise in the hallway begins to subside.  She’s not foreign to uncomfortable situations.  To volatile situations, but for some reason this felt different.  She was outside her comfort zone.  Traveled across the country to get an interview and some answers, and she had no idea if she’d find her subject to be a willing participant… Considering HOW things were left with Loco Martinez, when SHOOT closed?  Outlook wouldn’t be good.   

The secretary gave a polite smile and nod.

Secretary:  107.  He’ll be in there. 

Abigail Chase:  Thank you.

She takes a deep breath and composes herself for a minute, and heads down the hall.  She takes pause again at 107.  Inside she hears a familiar voice talking sternly to one of his third grade students.

Loco Martinez:  Ross, you gotta be better, man.  I don’t care what MJ is doing, or saying to you.  You CAN. NOT.  Hit people! 

The boy stares at his feet.  He mutters an “I know”. 

Loco Martinez:  Good.  If it happens again, we’re gonna get your mom in here.  You want that?

He shakes his head “No”.

Loco Martinez:  Good.  Make sure you bring in that extra homework tomorrow, okay?

Ross nods.  Loco smirks. 

Loco Martinez:  Dude.  LOOK at me.

He lifts his head slowly. 

Loco Martinez:  Tomorrow is a NEW day.  What does every day give us the chance to be?

Ross smiles sheepishly and mutters.

Ross:  … better.

Loco Martinez:  I can’t hear you.

Ross:  BETTER!

Loco Martinez:  Get outta here. 

The kid tears off an almost knocks down Abigail.  She lets out a startled yell.  Ross gives a loud apology as Loco gets up to yell.

Loco Martinez:  DUDE! You CAN’T RUN-

Loco trails off as he sees the face of the woman Ross nearly ran down.  His easy demeanor melts away.  Something deep inside is triggered as his eyes narrow and a scowl crosses his lips.

Loco Martinez:  Pretty sure you’re lost.

Loco turns and heads back to his desk silently.  She follows, despite the lack of invitation.  Loco Martienz is a little heavier in the face and around his waist.  A lot less tan.  Patches of grey have begun sprouting over his ears and stretching to his temples.  His hair is manicured and gelled in place.  A neatly trimmed beard covers his face.  He sits down and looks at her with a heavy sigh.

Abigail Chase:  I’m here…

Loco holds up a hand and reaches into his school desk. He pulls out a piece of paper with the SHOOT Project helmet on it.  He slides it across his worn wooden desk. 

Loco Martinez:  To find out my thoughts on THIS?! 

Abigail Chase:  Yes.  With SHOOT reopening its doors.  With Soldiers across the globe and from SHOOT’s past reassembling.  SHOOT and its fans are wondering if you'll be joining them?

Loco Martinez snickers.

Abigail Chase:  Did I say something funny?!

Loco Martinez:  I mean… kind of.  Will I be JOINING them?!  Will I be gracing the SHOOT Project with my presence once again?!  Forgive me… if I find THAT  *Points to the paper, his words dripping with sarcasm* “invitation” more than a little half assed.  While  I respect your journalistic investigation? I appreciate what you're doing: following up on a story, or lead, or whatever… kudos to whoever it was who figured out what school I worked at since I know for a fact y’all DON’T have my home address… but… yeah… you wasted your damn time. 

Abigail Chase:  The people will be wondering why someone in his prime would be so dismissive?

Loco out right scoffs.

Loco Martinez:  WHY?!  Hmm… maybe because the last time I was in the SHOOT Project and about to fight my best friend?  When were on the precipice of something SPECIAL?  SOMEONE took it upon themselves to screw with the two of us.  They were doing a masterful job of it too, but?  Last time I was in SHOOT?  Maya Nakashima was SURE I was a monster.  The SHOOT Project fans KNEW I was evil incarnate.  Everywhere I went there were looks and whispers.  Every turn I was questioned.  My very being… something, if you remember I worked DAMN HARD to right my wrongs… was flushed at the first bit of incredibly convenient, circumstantial evidence. 

The worst thing? 

He lets the pregnant pause fill the air.

Loco Martinez: It wrecked me.  I was beating myself up because there was NOTHING I could do to convince anyone.  It was like trying to hold onto grains of sands.  Harder I tried to squeeze the more grains slipped through.  I couldn't stop it.  Hell, it might have been a blessing that SHOOT closed when it did.  I was at my breaking point.  I was already guilty in the court of public opinion.  By my friends.  Hell… my own MOTHER questioned my intentions.  So? You came a long way to find answers that if you, and whoever thought it was a good idea to send you, actually took the time to think about?!  It’d be damn apparent on why the total disdain for the picking of this just healed scab.  BUT?  In effort to humor you, and maybe… just maybe make this trek you made to be worthwhile.   WHY I would openly scoff at the simple THOUGHT of going back to SHOOT?!  Look at how I was treated before the doors got shuttered.  Look at how quickly people dismissed me, and so, how about you answer me THIS…

His eyes narrow.  A fire is there as he levels an intense gaze at Abigail Chase.

Loco Martinez:  Why. the.  FUCK.  Would I ever go back?!

He goes to work cleaning up his desk.  Abigail Chase thinks briefly about continuing to question him, but decides now might not be the time.  She smiles politely and nods.

Abigail Chase:  Thanks for your time, Jay.  I’m sorry to bother you at work, but… you know how it is. 

She turns and heads out.  He winces and sighs, a wave of guilt for treating her like shit.

Loco Martinez:  Abigail… Listen.  I’m sorry.  I know I was a douche nozzle.  I’d love to blame it on a long day at work, but the truth is?  I’m just starting to get over that.  First the “invitation”… then you show up?  Clearly I wasn’t in a good place to deal with that.  If you want… I can make it up to you.

Its Abigail’s turn to scoff. No stranger to being hit on in the work place. Loco quickly throws up his hands innocently.

Loco Martinez: NO. no-no-no-no… I’m not trying to pick you up, my fiancé would KILL me. 

A surprised look crosses Abigail Chase’s face.

Loco Martinez:  Yeah. 

Abigail Chase:  Congrats!

Loco Martinez:  Thanks, but… I hate the thought of killing the messenger, and since I don’t know WHO is behind this invitation…

Abigail Chase:  Join the club. 

Loco flashes a puzzled look at his former co-worker.

Loco Martinez:  So.  Maybe we can sit down. I can give you some answers on the record.  You want to come over?  I’ll cook dinner.  You can meet Jolie. 

Abigail Chase: I’m in town until Friday.  Maybe tomorrow night?

Loco Martinez:  Sounds like a plan… and again.  I’m sorry for being so short with you.

Abigail Chase:  You’re not the first.  Won’t be the last.  Though, I don’t usually get an apology AND a meal out of it. 

Loco’s face parts into his trademark Cheshire Cat smile.

Loco Martinez: I do pride myself on being one of kind! 

They share a friendly chuckle. Abigail excuses herself as Loco goes to finish his work.

General Discussion / Ebay or Craigslist
« on: December 12, 2014, 09:49:06 PM »
So...  I have caved to console upgrading now i have a like new slim 360 250gb with a bunch games and what not. 

which would be better, Ebay or Craigslist?

Also if any of you'd be interested feel free to hit me up. 

General Discussion / Lap Top Help
« on: December 03, 2014, 10:20:20 PM »
So my nieces and nephew ALL want laptops for Christmas.  2 want a "gaming" laptop.  the other a macbook. 

Sssoooo...  is there an economical gaming laptop?  What would I be looking for in a gaming laptop? 

The Epicenter / What is There to be Thankful For? {ii for WHC vs. Maya}
« on: November 28, 2014, 11:41:50 PM »
Tuesday, November, 26th, 2014.
McCarran International Airport
Las Vegas, Nevada

He sits, shoulders heavily.  The weight of the World invisibly pushing down.  Pushing his chest towards his knees.  In his right hand he aimlessly scrolls through twitter.  Part distraction.  Part self abuse.  He can’t go far without SOMEONE saying SOMETHING about his upcoming match.  About how full of shit he is.  How evil he’s become.  How everything that’s happened has been a ploy.  A Ruse.  A trick.  All about him becoming something he’s always dreamt of being. 

He sighs and shuts the phone down.  He leans back into the chair in McCarran’s waiting area.  He hasn’t shaved in… what appears to be weeks.  A green Philadelphia Eagles hat pulled low over his forehead to keep himself “low key” only half works as the occasional passer by gawks.  Some whispering about “WHO” he is, and perhaps “WHAT” he’s done.  A plain white t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans completes his ensemble.  He mutters to himself.

Loco Martinez:  I really wish she listened to me…

He cranes his neck to see the arrival board.  To see when the 8am US Airways flight that departed from Philadelphia would make its arrival.   

He told Gabriella Martinez, that he wasn’t really UP for guests this week.  That considering EVERYTHING that’s going on.  That even though it WAS Thanksgiving week.  A week for family, friends, and for taking stock of everything in your life and slowing down, or stopping to celebrate those things.  To enjoy life. 

But Loco Martinez wasn’t in the mood for self reflection.  Wasn’t in mood to hang with friends, as if there were many, or any, left.  And seeing as he went out of his way to dissuade his mom from coming out to Vegas?  Isn’t much in the mood for family.   

A few moments pass and he shifts in  his seat.  His mind picking at him.  His thoughts bouncing and attacking and each twitch, nervous neck crack, aimless stroke of his facial stubble,  seemingly another barb from his current tormentor. 

So he sits there, a time of the year that SHOULD be happy.  A week in which he SHOULD be thrilled about the prospect of becoming the SHOOT Project World Champion.  Excitement, maybe a bit nervous,  should be the emotional anticipation for what SHOULD have been an epic contest between two friends…  what SHOULD have been a match for the ages.  A match that could have shown the world what it is that is beautiful and right and AMAZING about professional wrestling…  about SPORT. 


Gabriella Martinez:  HIJO!

The voice of Loco Martinez’s mom cuts through the terminal.  He turns and sees his mom and attempts to feign his big Cheshire Cat grin, but she sees him and his attempts to look happy and frowns.

Gabriella Martinez:  What’s the matter?

She throws her arms around him as he stands and turns toward her.  She gives him a big kiss on the cheek.

Loco Martinez:  Nothing, Ma.  I just have a lot on my mind right now. 

Her brow furrows.  He takes her bag and throws it over his shoulder.

Gabriella Martinez:  You don’t look so good. 

Loco Martinez:  Well I’ve been busy…

She knows her son and puts her arm around his arm, interlocking elbows, and rests her head on his shoulder.

Gabriella Martinez:  I’m happy to see you. 

Loco Martinez:  Yeah… Me too.

She frowns.  Gabriella Martinez hasn’t seen this side of her son.  It worries her.  She knows in the past that she could go for a long time between seeing and hearing from Loco.  Sometimes he fell so far into things that he wouldn’t look up.  Wouldn’t seek her out.  It was part of the reason that despite his pleas, she made sure to come out to Vegas.  To see him this week.  To hopefully remind him of what he is or, can be. 

The continue walking through the terminal.  Walking in silence.

Thursday, November, 28th, 2014.
Loco Martinez’s Apartment
Las Vegas, Nevada

Thanksgiving Day.  Loco Martinez’s apartment has the look and vague feel of a holiday celebration.  his mom works hard in the kitchen.  A long table set up that stretches from the eating area into the living room, where the two members of ANARCHY!  sitting, we wouldn’t call it “comfortably” as there is an uncomfortable almost nervous energy between the two of them.  They got the invite via text, a day ago.  They aren’t sure what to make of all this.  They just know there is a table WAAAAAAY too big for the four people currently inside this apartment.  Gabriella pops her head out.

Gabriella Martinez:  You boys need anything?

T.Rex:  Nah, Missus Martinez, we’re good.

She walks back into continue her cooking.  Arch Angel looks towards his tag team partner, and mutters.

Arch Angel:  You sure about that?

T.Rex gives a shrug.  From the kitchen Gabriella calls out.

Gabriella Martinez:  Jay!  Come out of there.  We have company. 

An unintelligible grunt as an answer.  ANARCHY continues to watch the halftime show of the Lions/Bears game.  Finally Loco walks out in a pair of shorts, and a t-shirt.  His beard with two more days of growth.  He grabs a handful of pistachios off the table, and plops down on the couch, with almost no acknowledgement of his two friends.

Gabriella Martinez:  Aren’t you gonna say hi?

Loco rolls his eyes.  Looks at T.Rex and Arch Angel.

Loco Martinez:  Hey, fellas. 

Arch Angel:  Uh… Hey, Loc.  How’s it going?

He answers with a silent shrug.  Pretending to be enthralled with the halftime highlights.

Gabriella Martinez:  JAY?!

Loco Martinez:  I’m fine, Chris.  I’m fine. 

Uncomfortable silence. T.Rex shifts in his chair.

T.Rex:  SO, how was your flight Missus Martinez? 

Gabriella Martinez:  It was nice.  Good to get out here.  Its been a while. 

T.Rex:  Yeah.  Has… has it been since last Thanksgiving? 

A pause as she thinks about that. 

Gabriella Martinez:  No.  I was out here after that, but that was a nice trip.  Remember Jay?

Loco looks up.  He stares blankly not entirely sure what he’s being asked about.

Gabriella Martinez:  Last year. We were all here for Thanksgiving.  You three boys.  Remember? 

Loco gives a pained shrug… he knows… he REMEMBERS, but he isn’t really into taking this trip down memory lane, but this one is out of his hands, and it appears as if he’ll be dragged down the lane kicking in screaming…

T.Rex:  Yeah!  I remember.  We was here.  Grubbing.  And King and his lady… I think she was his lady… but yeah those two came, OOH, and May…*T.Rex tries to stop, but like a pothole you see at the last minute, and can’t swerve, so you just wince and wait for it to potentially destroy your wheel* …. a .

A look from Loco.  His eyes narrow with rage.  A name he had no interest in hearing.  The tension changes as Gabriella walks in flaunting the same smile we are so accustomed to seeing on Loco’s face.

Gabriella Martinez:  That’s right!  Maya and Señor King were hear last year!  Hijo.  Did you invite them this year?! 

Loco SHOOTs a dirty look Teddy’s way before answering.

Loco Martinez:  No, Mom.  Just wanted to keep it small this year.  Ya know.  Just these two.  Didn’t want you to over stress about cooking for… uh… more people.   

She sees through the bullshit.

Gabriella Martinez:  Oh yeah?  You were worried about ME… rrrrright.   Not because you’re about to fight him?

Loco winces at being called out.  Usually there was a better than good chance his mom wasn’t following his in ring exploits.  He bolts up shows more sign of life than we’ve seen from him in a while.

Loco Martinez:  Yeah, ma.  Cuz we’re about to fight… but it ain’t JUST like we’re fighting.  We’re fighting to be the SHOOT Project World Champion.  It ain’t just a match, and there is NO. WAY. Even if I did invite Maya?  That he would have accepted. 

Gabriella Martinez nods knowingly.

Gabriella Martinez:  Right because he thinks you’re behind all the bad stuff happening to him. 

Loco Martinez:  Yes.

Gabriella Martinez:  But you’re not right?

She asks this with a hint of HOPING her son is not behind it, not KNOWING her son is not behind this and hits Loco especially hard.  He recoils as he just took a straight right to the nose.

Loco Martinez:  Fucking… REALLY, mom?!

She starts to look to admonish him for his language, but the look on his face stops her.  His own MOTHER isn’t sure of what to believe.  He looks at his feet.

Loco Martinez: Crazy what a year can do, huh?  A year ago this holiday.  THIS home.  It was Thanksgiving and us and Maya and King had shit to be thankful for.  We could sit here and enjoy each other and enjoy food and drink and jokes and laughs while preparing for a match.  Sure maybe some of the cast is same.  The food will be delicious.  There’s football on the television…

He looks up icily.

Loco Martinez:  THIS year… is NOT last year.  Last year, Maya, you were a guest in my home.  My mom cooked for you.  You walked into this house… you came in and that woman right there threw her arms around you and took you for… FUCKING… FAMILY.   You know why she did that Maya?  You know WHY THAT WOMAN RIGHT THERE WAS THAT OPEN AND WARM AND LOVING TOWARDS YOU?!?!

He stops.  An uncomfortable silence fills the room as Loco continues to talk to the camera.

Loco Martinez:  I’ll wait…   … … …  Mom, you wanna help Maya out?  Why would you be so warm and friendly and take Maya in like that? 

Gabriella Martinez looks nervously at her son.  At a side she hasn’t seen before and she clearly doesn’t like it.

Gabriella Martinez:  Its… well… Jay… it was… because YOU-

He puts up his hand cutting her off.

Loco Martinez:  Exactly.  Because.  Of.  ME.  You were here, and my mom took you in, because.  OF.  ME!  Because when I’d talk to her I’d talk about my friend.  I told her your story.  I told her about your ability to forgive.  To Fight.  To Strive.  To succeed.  Despite EVERYTHING you’ve been through.  Everything that happened from Legacy to Shinya to Project SCAR.  That you were coming here and I was proud of that fact.  That SHOOT’s World Champion would be coming over for a little Martinez styled Thanksgiving, but more importantly that MY FRIEND was coming over.  But here we are a year later.  You won’t be setting foot in this house any time soon, but you know what WILL? 

His lips part into a vile bastardized version of his CHESHIRE CAT grin.  The look on his face sends shivers down his mother’s spine.

Loco Martinez:  Your precious World Championship.  Because going into this match I no longer have to worry about a friend standing across from me.  No longer have to bother myself with YOUR feelings.  You made yourself abundantly clear.  You look at me and see darkness, but you need to get your vision checked.  I’m not what you think I am.  No one… not even my own… fucking… MOTHER seems to believe me, but I KNOW.  I KNOW what I am and what I have, or in this case… HAVEN’T done.  But that horse is already dead, no need to continue beating it.  The only thing I need to worry myself about beating?   Maya Nakashima.  SHOOT Project’s World Heavyweight Champion.   Last year at this time, I might have felt a twinge of guilt standing over you, holding that Gold Beauty above my head.  At Master of the Mat?  There won’t be any guilt.  I’ll be standing over you, a dream realized. 

A Champion. 


… … …

We fade to static, but before going to black a frozen picture comes up.  The scene looks similar to the one we were just in, only Loco is standing, dressed nicely, and with no unkept hair, or scraggly facial scruff.  Its last Thanksgiving.  Loco is standing over  a seated T.Rex.  The picture springs to life. 

There's a knock at the door.  Loco pats Teddy on the shoulder,  heads to the door, opens it and standing there is Maya Nakashima.

Loco Martinez:  Hey there Champ!  Happy Thanksgiving.

He and Maya exchange a handshake.  Maya walks in.

Maya: Thanks for inviting me, Loco.

Mama Martinez's head pops out of the kitchen.

Gabriella Martinez:  who's here?

Her eyes light up with recognition, that while even though they have never met face to face she has heard her son talk about his friend many many times and she makes a b-line for Maya and before he can realize what's happening she has thrown her arms around him and given him a big kiss on the cheek.

Gabriella Martinez:  MAYA!  So great to meet you.  Happy Thanksgiving!

We freeze on that image.  Gabriella Martinez’s arms wrapped around Maya Nakashima as if he were her own son… As if he were Loco’s brother.



General Discussion / Happy Thanksgiving
« on: November 27, 2014, 09:47:37 PM »
Happy Thanksgiving, all!  Hope you all had, are having a nice holiday. 

The Epicenter / The Ladder Aisle {i for ANARCHY!}
« on: November 16, 2014, 07:11:10 PM »
The wobbly front of a bright orange shopping cart that belongs to the Home Depot.  The boys of ANARCHY! walking behind the cart, that T.Rex pushes.  A rather routine trip to the super sized hardware store.  We see assorted items packing the cart.  They talk quietly amongst themselves as they work their way through the store. 

T.Rex: That shit got outta hand, Chris.  Fuggin' Crazy.

Arch Angel:  I know, right?  No idea what to make of all of that.  I just know that coming out of Revolution?  We got ourselves a title match.

T.Rex:  Yeah.  And the stuff in our match?  I mean... the attack on Omar and Zex.  The Trophy Case?  You think Loco...

He trails off not sure if he really WANTS to know the answer to the question he started.

Arch Angel:   I don't know, Ted.  Right now... in SHOOT?  I figure its best to focus on what we can control.  What we CAN control is our title match at Master of the Mat.

T.Rex: *mutters*  As much as a four way ladder match can be "controlled". 

Arch Angel smirks and nods knowingly.  A few moments of silence follow.   They make aright down an aisle and come to an abrupt stop.   They are surrounded with countless ladders of all shapes and sizes.  Colorful fiberglass ladders, and glistening aluminum.   T.Rex chuckles.

T.Rex:  Pick one of these fuggers up for practice? 

Arch Angel also chuckles.

Arch Angel:  Yeah we ain’t exactly going into a match that one would think would benefit dudes of our respective sizes and ages…

T.Rex:  So we’re old and fat?

Arch Angel:  In a way…

T.Rex:  On the plus side, at least we got ourselves a tag title rematch. Even IF its not a one on one with Hollywood Hardcore.

Arch Angel:  Hey with all the whispering about if we would get any shot at all we can’t be too pissy with having this match with Hardcore, Omar and Zex, and Team Methhead Scuzzy McScumbags.

T.Rex:  Dude, Riley is gonna have a laundry list of profanity for you for that.  He might create a few new ones just for you.

They share a chuckle.  They have come to a stop and they’re eying up the array of ladders.  Small 3 footers to giant 12 footers, extension ladders.  Colorful fiberglass ladders, and silver aluminum.  T.Rex approaches a six foot ladder.  He frowns looking at a warning label.

T.Rex:  Dude… this says that the weight limit for this shit is two hundred, fiddy pounds. 

Arch Angel:  yeah well some of those down there are rated for over three hundred pounds. 

T.Rex:  Yeah… I don’t think its a good thing if the ladder is already buckling if just one of us is on the damn thing!  I mean… when in any ladder match, EVER has it been about guys taking turns and being on a ladder “one at a time”. 

Arch Angel:  Yeah.  I hear, ya.  We’re just gonna have to make sure guys are down… AND out if we’re gonna start adventuring up the ladder to get those belts.  Or?  This will be the first ladder match that goes to a no contest because we’ve successfully destroyed every last one that will no doubt be surrounding the ring. 

T.Rex runs his hands across a silver aluminum ladder.

T.Rex: Its not like we’re foreign to ladders.  We both dabbled in contractor work back east.  We did all kinds of odds and ends growing up, when we were just wrestling part time.  Just… uh… we’re not super familiar with them inside a ring. 

Arch Angel:  Right.  We can totally use them.  Ain’t afraid of heights or anything like THAT.  BUT?  Us in the ring with the ladder and how exactly we’re going to use it?  The strategy to figure out when to climb, or how to climb?  All THAT is a work in progress.   Hell I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out if in our long, less than illustrious careers if we’ve been in a match like this before? 

T.Rex:  I think so?  I can vaguely remember being involved in a ladder match before. 

Arch Angel: But were we IN it, or just there… probably added muscle for someone. 

T.Rex shrugs.

T.Rex: Does it fuggin matter? 

Arch Angel:  I guess not.

T.Rex:  Of course it doesn’t.  Cuz we’re going into Master of the Mat with a chance to regain THE Tag Team Championships.  And we’re going in there with a whole lot of talented wrestlers.  A whole lot of dangerous dudes.   The one thing they share in common is I ain’t about to have love for any of these teams.  Sure, I like Cripp, but he and Laz are the ones that beat us for those belts.  And they can be as Hollywood Hardcore as they want-

Arch Angel:  Isn’t Hollywood Hardcore just porn? 

T.Rex stops, and stares at Arch Angel he shakes his head with a chuckle.

T.Rex:  I s’pose.  But I’m guessing “The Pornographers” wasn’t quite the catchy team name SHOOT wanted to put on t-shirts. 

Arch Angel:  Or DID they?

T.Rex takes  a moment to weigh the marketing possibilities of “The Pornographers” merchandise.

Arch Angel:  The team names aside, at Master of the Mat we’re getting our title match.  We’re facing off against 3 talented and dangerous teams.  We’ve fought all of these guys since SHOOT Reopened its doors, and lets take a look at the score card?  Things did NOT go well for us.  Lost to Crip and Laz.  lost to Omar and Zex-

T.Rex:  By DQ. 

Arch Angel:  And who’s fault was THAT? 

T.Rex:  Still. 

Arch Angel:  And Riley, Quinn, Wailer, and whoever else may or may not be involved with that pack of hyenas have not just gone out of their way to put the tag division on blast, but it seems like most of SHOOT.  Say what you will about those guys… and trust me… we WILL… This match?  Specifically because of the chaos a ladder match includes, and the total self destructive disregard those guys seem to live their lives with?   I can’t even begin to wrap my head around what this match will be.  How it’ll play out. 

T.Rex:  Luckily we ain’t exactly the master strategists.  IF there is one thing we tend to excel at its, not over thinking.

Arch Angel chuckles and deadpans.

Arch Angel:  That’s an understatement. 

T.Rex:  Dick…  BUT  We do our best work walking into our place of work… be it a Bar, or a Ring, and get to clobberin’!   Sure we may not be tailor made for…

He slaps a six foot ladder.

T.Rex:  The surroundings, but in a match where the mission is to bludgeon, neutralize, and incapacitate?  A match where we’ll far and away have the size advantage? 

A Smile crosses Teddy’s lips.

T.Rex:  I like our chances. 

Arch Angel:  I like you’re optimism, Theordore *T.Rex SHOOTs him a dirty look* -  The good thing for us, if you can HAVE a good thing in a match as physical and as dangerous as this?  Is that wearing down our opponents with our physicality.  Attacking and pummeling and just beating them down… Won’t entail us climbing the ladder to hit a move.  See fellas? 

Arch Angel walks to an 8 foot ladder that is set up and puts his left foot on the bottom rung.

Arch Angel: For the boys of ANARCHY! -  If we set foot on one of these?  Its not to climb to the top to inflict damage.  When it comes to this War at Master of the Mat, I ASSURE YOU, ANARCHY! Are strictly ground troops.   SO when you see us get a Ladder it’ll be to climb it rung by rung to get reclaim the SHOOT Project Tag Team Championships. 

T.Rex:  Unless we’re swinging the ladders at ‘em… like they’re weapons. 

Arch Angel: Sure, I suppose we could use the ladders as a weapon. 

T.Rex:  I’m sure we WILL use them as weapons.  I mean… basically if I can grab it and swing it?  I’m gonna use it.   Fugg, I might pick up Riley by his scrawny ankles and swing his tweaked out ass around and play whack-a-mole with everyone else in this damn match. 

Arch Angel smirks.

T.Rex:  You remember how good I was at Whack-A-Mole I was Chris?  Remember?  On the Boardwalk back in the day?

Arch Angel shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

Arch Angel:  Yeah Teddy, I remember. 

T.Rex: So when we get to Master of the Mat, Omar, Zex, Crippler, Corey, Quinn, and Riley are gonna be my own personal moles. 

Arch Angel:  You hear that SHOOT?  The world’s greatest whack-a-mole player is going to bring his game to Master of the Mat.  And he won’t stop whacking moles until we can climb to the rafters of the Epicenter and retrieve the SHOOT Project World Tag Team Championships! 

T.Rex frowns.

T.Rex:  Don’t have to be sarcastic about it! 

Arch Angel:  Sorry, Ted.  I know what you’re saying and I know you’re looking forward to this match. 

T.Rex:  Fuggin’ A Right.  We don’t know when or if we’ll get another chance like this.  We weren’t sure we’d get THIS one. So we gotta make sure we’re damn ready to go into the Epicenter we put it ALL out there.  If this IS the last chance we ever get at the Tag Titles?  We make sure that everything we have.  Everything we’ve one leads us to the top of these ladders.  Reclaiming the SHOOT Tag Team Championships.  We usher in the return of SHOOT’s Tag Team Division.  We show the WORLD what a little ANARCHY! looks like inside that SHOOT Project ring. 

The two members of ANARCHY!  continue eyeballing the hardware for a few moments before we go to black.

A sweat soaked Loco Martinez sits in on the apron of the ring inside the center of the Epicenter.  He gazes down between his knees.  Yellow Nike cross trainers dangling at the end of his tanned legs.  Black work out shorts and a sleeveless sweat ringed t-shirt cling to his physique.   

Gone are the television lights and crowd.  In its stead, house lighting and a few employees milling around doing some prep work for the upcoming SHOOT Project Extravaganza.  He showed up to the Epicenter two hours ago to work out in the ring where he’d have the opportunity of opportunities, but more importantly than the physical aspects of training, he wanted to engage in an age old tradition. 

For all his years as an athlete. Be it on the pitch, in the pool, or in the ring… Loco Martinez found a serenity in throwing himself into physical endeavors.  That the “happy hurt” as a long ago age group swim coach put it… that pleasure in the pouring of ones self into something mentally and physically and the physiological endorphin rush that followed.  That he could lose himself in whatever it was he was doing and his mind would shut off.  For… however long.  So he came to the place where he could do that.  It was beyond physical preparation.  By this point someone doing this as long as he has his body is ready… His mind on the other hand?

For months as he was granted a title match, and while he got closer and closer to the thing inside this industry he wanted most he watched fans, friends, and people he cared about slip through his fingers.    Like a fist full of sand.  His desperate pleas.  His passionate defenses.  It was him trying and trying and TRYING to squeeze each grain.  To keep it from getting away.  And yet?  Here he was.  Alone.  No one believed him.  His closest friends didn’t believe him.  Hell, he’d be hard pressed to find ANYONE who believed him. 

For Loco Martinez where do you go when you feel like you have no one?  What do you do?  You throw yourself into something familiar.  Something without judging. Where maybe, just maybe you can get some respite from your own mind.  Who at this point time is spending as much time saying “WHY?!”  as “WHY NOT?!”  That is slowly working that thread that becoming the monster everyone assumes he IS, kills two birds with one stone.  Everyone is proved right.  He gets that precious precious championship wrapped around his waist.  A life long dream come true.  “Just give in”, -THAT Loco Martinez says.  “They’re not going to believe you.” - He pulls and pokes and prods.  “You know YOU can’t get it done.  Let ME take care of things.” - The taunting voice in the recesses of his head. A ghost of Loco Martinez’s past has haunted him for weeks, and with each passing day as we get closer to Master of the Mat?  That voice is getting LOUDER.  CLEARER.  STRONGER.

He rubs his hands across the mat with a loving quality.  He looks up.

Loco Martinez:  You know when I heard you speak about me being such a SHOOT Project Soldier that I could actually have enough equity that I COULD pull strings like this… in a weird twisted, totally fucked up way, it was one of the nicer things you could say to me… about me.  See?  I wanted that.  Because up until this most recent history there isn’t much chance someone would even dream of thinking I could “call in favors” in SHOOT.  I had a couple “cups of coffee” years and years ago.  I’ve wrestled and succeeded in lots of places, but?  Not here.  Not until a year ago, and Master of the Mat.  My first taste of success inside the SHOOT Project.   Then the Primus and I’m within reach.   Smell the leather.  The smell of polish so strong I could taste it, and I couldn’t have been happier when that boiled down to you and I.  That I knew the next SHOOT Champion would have earned it.  Worked his ass off for it, and would carry and defend it with a fighter’s spirit.  He would be everything RIGHT about the world of Wrestling and SHOOT. 

He could lead SHOOT into an era of competition.   That champion would be someone all of SHOOT and the world of wrestling could look to… a beacon of light.  Turns out?  It was YOU that given night.  You were the better man, and while I fell short?  I know I was proud of you, and happy for you.  At that time there was no jealousy boiling up.  Disappointment?  Sure.  LIke you pointed out I have a history of falling short.  THIS Loco Martinez, especially which, like you realize... can result in THAT Loco Martinez.  But even then... that night... with the disappointment of having that opportunity slip through my grasp?   THAT Loco Martinez wasn’t a nagging voice chirping away.  No.  THAT Loco Martinez hasn’t been heard up here *taps his index finger to his temple* - until recently.  Until YOU started pointing the finger in my direction.  So now you, the SHOOTiverse, other friends, family… they all wonder if this exercise will become self fulfilling prophecy.  That ALL this will be an exercise in inevitability.  that I’ll be the monster everyone… “KNOWS” I am. 

He lets the prospect hang heavy in the air with a noncommittal shrug for a few moments.

Loco Martinez:  The trophy case was a nice touch though, right?  I mean… man…  SOMEONE did his, or her homework.  Motherfucker brought out THE Trophy Case.  A damn near exact replica of the manifestation of everything evil I’ve done. 

He chuckles disbelieving.  Its unnerving.

Loco Martinez:  I mean… I mean… shit…  I WOULD do something like that.  I mean… I would… *He trails off and shudders at the image of a past version of himself*  have.   Years ago.  Federations ago.  There IS a part of me, and I know you know THAT Loco Martinez. Which is… why… to this point I’ve been so damned patient.  I GET IT!  I do.  But, dammit… You’re not giving me even the slightest benefit of the doubt.  You’ve written me off and its a foregone conclusion that I AM everything you think I am.  That I am every bit the dickbag that the fans think I am.  That I have masterminded everything.  Each Revolution another step towards me becoming the SHOOT Project World Champion, and another step away from you and everything I’ve worked tooth and fucking nail to BE inside SHOOT.  That I did all this.

He throws his hands out wildly.  Holds them for a second before dropping them.  Like they can't hold up to the weight a second longer.  He closes his eyes briefly.  Takes a breath.  Opens them slowly.   His eyes go steely.  His jaw clenches.

Loco Martinez:  But.  I.   DIDN’T!  You sat there as you have the last few weeks and pointed the finger at me.  Accused me.  Every possible explanation I give, gets dismissed.  And while I’ve said I totally understand and SEE how badly looks for me?  I… I… just… 

He’s desperate.  His fingers wrap around the edge of the apron.  He squeezes tight.  The color drains out of his knuckles.  They whiten as he tries to hold onto that sand.  Holding on to the edge.

Loco Martinez:  I didn’t do that.  Any of that.  The ten on one.  The Anarchy handicapped match, another stroke of brilliance, by the way… Your attack.  Zex and Omar’s attack. I mean, like I somehow got the Scavengers to do MY bidding?  Like I'd have SHIT to do with Jason Riley?  C'mon dude.  STOP.  But yeah... that, and the The fucking trophy case… didn't do... ANY. OF. IT! 

He takes a pause.  He looks back down.

Loco Martinez:  I may lack your physical wounds, Maya, but I’m not coming into this match unscathed.  Everything that’s going on is impacting me.  I came to SHOOT to try to “get the red out of my ledger”.  Because I know I can’t just show up and slap on a smiling face and act like a better person and have people to just forgive and forget.  That I went out of my way to do everything to try to put some balance into karmic scale.  that I couldn’t let the lasting impression be how I acted in Legacy.  Which is why… those years back, when we had a birthday party in Brazil?  I made sure I came up to you.  Despite KNOWING you had no reason to trust me with how horribly I treated with. And you didn’t spit in my face DESPITE that AND everything you were going through at the time.  I offered an apology and you accepted it, and forgave me.   I offered a hand, and you took it.  We were friends… or as you pointed out… BROTHERS.   Which makes it all the more painful when you can’t even for a second stop to think.. maybe… JUST MAYBE I don’t have anything to do with this.  That maybe, just… MAYBE I have continued to be the man I have been since coming into the SHOOT Project. 

He takes a deep breath and lets it out through his teeth in a sigh.

Loco Martinez:  Maya, in the interest of friendship? *mutters*... even if its in ruins...    I will come clean.  I WILL admit that I am guilty of TWO things:  *He holds his right thumb out.*  I won the 2013 Master of the Mat, and *Holds his right index finger out.*  I  am winning that SHOOT Project Championship at the 2014 Master of the Mat.  That’s it.  I know I’m just wasting my breath.  I can hear the scoffing.  See the eye rolls.  I’m gonna walk back through the bowels of the Epicenter and I’m gonna HEAR the whispers.  Gonna HEAR “I can’t believe he’s still going with it”,  “Can’t believe he’s this dedicated to denying this”,  “Clearly its him, how delusional does he have to be to think he can fool us?”    But when… WHEN… I put you down for a three count, my hand is raised, and I’m given that beautiful championship belt?  Fans are wide eyed and slack jawed when everything they KNEW is wrong-wrong-wrong... ... WRONG!   It'll dawn on you…

You lost EVERYTHING.   


some FANS, who believe I had anything to do with this simply because YOU told them so. 

 the match.

 the SHOOT Project World Heavyweight Championship.

He stares hard into the camera.  A pained expression crosses his face before he delivers this line.

Loco Martinez:  You’ll have lost ME. 

Loco Martinez shakes his head negatively.  He hops down off the apron and walks off.


The Epicenter / IF: On the Brink {i for Loco/ANARCHY!}
« on: October 15, 2014, 07:53:53 PM »
Dark room somewhere inside the Epicenter.   The light flicker of a projector.  On the screen we see Arch Angel locked in Omar’s “Last Grasp”.  The Picture goes slow.  We see T.Rex slide in with a chair.  Winds up.  Drives it down nailing Omar AND Arch Angel.  A familiar voice calls out.

Arch Angel:  Thanks a lot, Ted. 

T.Rex:  Said I was fuggin’ sorry, Chris.

Video stops.  Rewinds.  Plays again.  Another familiar voice, only really… REALLY… REALLY annoyed.

Loco Martinez:  Really, fellas?  This the time for the chuckles?  THIS is what you decide will be a QUOTE, plan of attack, UNQUOTE?  Un.  FUCKING.   BELIEVABLE.

Loco Martinez, the man behind the scheduled video session rewinds again.  The boys of ANARCHY sigh, and if we could SEE their eyes?  Safe to say we’d see them rolling. Loco doesn’t like the sighs.

Loco Martinez:  YOU don’t like it?


Loco Martinez:  Well… how do you think it makes ME feel? 

Uncomfortable silence.

Loco Martinez:  Do you know how this makes ME, look?! 

The lights come up and we see T.Rex and Arch Angel exchanging a look.  Loco notices this and weighs exactly how self important his last two exclamations come across.  He sighs and takes a deep breath while he TRIES to soften, but there’s still an edge to his voice.

Loco Martinez:  Its… With everything that happened on Revolution.  Maya and I going middle school scuffle, that was only gonna escalate if SHOOT-agement didn’t come in and break us up…  Then I’m implicated in attacking Maya later in the show.  You take ALL that… and then throw in Teddy’s little hissy fit here?  And it wasn’t exactly a GOOD week for us, fellas. 

Arch Angel:  And we GET that, Jay.  Really we do, but it is what it is.  Teddy ain’t EVER been one who THINKS before he acts. 

T.Rex:  I apologized… right after it happened, Jay.  I just… saw red.  Everything going on.  Us losing our tag titles and then working our asses off to get back into shape?  And all I hear and read is how they don’t have faith in us.  How maybe we don’t get a title rematch.   

Loco Martinez: WHO?!   Who’s saying this, Jonny?  Dude if you’re gonna take the commentary of The Defiler to heart?  Well I don’t know what to tell you. 

Arch Angel: If it was JUST Jonny?  You’d have a point, but it ain’t.  Look at the press release today.  Vermont’s Finest has a shot.  There hasn’t been a whisper about us, dude.  NOTHING. 

T.Rex:  We’re patient guys, Loc’-

T.Rex is cut off by disbelieving stares.

T.Rex: Fine.  Chris is patient, Loc.  And even HE’s starting to worry that we’re a match or two from being swept under the rug and forgotten about.  That at OUR ages, and with all this new blood in the Tag Division that we’re, what’d you call, highly expendable. 

Loco thinks about this for a while.

Loco Martinez:  You want me to talk to someone?

Both men shake their heads adamantly “no”.

Arch Angel:  We don’t want “dad” going and complaining to coach for more “playing time”.  Hopefully us being a slightly squeaky wheel here and then clobbering fools in the ring.  That if we can CONTROL ourselves-

He looks directly at T.Rex who drops his head like a scolded puppy.

Arch Angel:  And handle our bidness in the RING?  That we’ll be right there for whoever comes out of any tag match at Master of the Mat. 

Loco Martinez: Well, I like to hear that.  Because THAT-

Loco points at the screen.

Loco Martinez:  Is not the lasting image we want to leave people with THIS week.  You guys get another crack at Zex and Omar, AND…

Loco trails off.  His demeanor changes as the realization that he and Maya will be in the ring together finally dawns on him.  He smirks.

Loco Martinez:  No backstage brawls.  No weird attacks where somehow I end up the leading suspect.  No circumstantial evidence.  Nah,  Maya Nakashima and THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH are gonna end up in the ring together and I’m gonna show him exactly what it feels like WHEN.  I.   ATTACK!  If he thinks I’m capable of all these evil things?  If he THINKS I’m going to toss aside everything… 

He trails off, distracted, and chuckles to himself, and ends up talking, mostly to himself, thinking out loud.

Loco Martinez:  Its like I have a blank check.  Its like… I mean… If I do whatever I NEED to do to soften him up for Master of the Mat?  People will be like “Of course!  We knew it all along.”  As good a dude as I’ve been, and can be?  I KNOW deep down there is THAT guy.  YOU TWO know “THAT GUY”. 

Arch Angel and T.Rex nod knowingly while sharing an uncomfortable look.

Loco Martinez:  The guy who ONLY cared about success.  That deep down monster who’s there no matter WHAT I do.  What 12 step program I enroll in? Whatever amends I've made.  What steps I've taken to be a better person.  I've never hidden my dark twisted past.  I haven't been shy to talk about it, reference it, and acknowledge it.  Pretending I'm only capable of good would be delusional.  Which is why part of me totally UNDERSTANDS why you think the way you do, Maya.    That’s a daily struggle, and maybe getting THIS close to the SHOOT Project World Championship is after years of sobriety, stepping foot into a Bar.  That “One sip can’t hurt”, right?  I mean that has to be what YOU'RE thinking...  heh... well you wouldn't be alone.

Loco’s grin melts.  His eyes glimmer.

Loco Martinez:  Because that championship is something I’ve strived for for YEARS.   THAT belt has meant the world to our industry.   You wear that championship on your shoulder?  You’re THE Man.  So is this match at Revolution, my “one drink”?  For the last few weeks its been pushed under my nose, and for MONTHS and MONTHS since I won Master of Mat its been an inevitable destination.  Now the drink is going to be tantalizingly close.  Right there, and ripe for the plucking.  IF I slip… IF I fall?   IF   I give in to everything everyone is already THINKING… BELIEVING that I am? 

He shrugs nonchalantly, as if giving in to his baser thoughts and desires is really not that big of deal. Then he looks coldly into the camera.

Loco Martinez:   And while you assume I HAVE given in?  I assure you with everything... This is an adventure in hypotheticals.   Because....  IF ...  I decide to put our friendship out to pasture, Maya?  IF... I decide that the PRIZE of PRIZES trumps that?  Know that the only reason I got to that point is because of the things you’ve said and done.  That every time you keep pointing those fingers at me, that… THAT GUY, deep down creeps a little closer to the surface.  That every disparaging thing I hear on the way to the ring.  That every accusatory glare I get on the street… ALL of that makes me wonder what’s the point?   IF...  I’m going to get ALL the damnation without any of the fun sinning?  ... ... ...

A long uncomfortable pause.  His mind working feverishly at something, but the only struggle gets to him.  He shakes his head, mutters “god…fucking…dammit”, and  turns on his heels and slams his hands into the door.  It swings open violently,  leaving ANARCHY! in the lurch, and looking incredibly uncomfortable.  The door swings closes.

T.Rex: Dude…  the pressure is REALLY getting to him. 

Arch Angel:  Yeah, a lot of THAT going around right now.

T.Rex:  How many more times I gotta fuggin’ apologize? 

Arch Angel: At least six. 

T.Rex rolls his eyes.

Arch Angel:  You should at least apologize to Omar and Zex.

T.Rex:  WHY?! 

Arch Angel:  C’mon dude.  You hissy fitted.  We talked about fighting a good fight and putting Tag Team Wrestling at the forefront.  Your chair shot shat all over that. 

T.Rex:  Yeah but-

Arch Angel:  Dude. 

T.Rex growls and drops his head.  His speech is less than convincing.

T.Rex:  Fine.  Guys, sorry I lost it at Revolution.  You had my tag team partner beat… badly-

Arch Angel:  Yo!

T.Rex: What?  you said apologize.  I’m just laying the groundwork. 

Arch Angel: I wasn’t beat BADLY.  I mean… I coulda got out of that.

He points at the screen.

T.Rex:   Yyyyyeah.  About that.   You were turning a disgusting shade of purple.  And you were snoring when I tried to revive you post match.  I mean, yes… I acted a’ fool, but lets not fuggin’ pretend we were winning that shit.  So, yeah… Zex, and Omar…. I apologize for interfering and not letting you make my partner either tap, or pass out.  But, on the plus side?  You still got a win over former SHOOT Project Tag Team Champions.  AND, you can once again work to make my tag team partner tap, or pass out!

Arch Angel:  Yeah… this is not what i had in mind when I suggested an apology, Ted. 

T.Rex:  What?!

Arch Angel:  I’m just saying you coulda just said, “hey sorry… That’s not us.  Not who we want to be, but in the heat of the moment, I let things go to my head, it won’t happen again.”

T.Rex takes a breath through gritted teeth.  Arch Angel looks annoyed.

Arch Angel:  WHAT?!

T.Rex:  I would leave out that part about it not happening again.

Arch Angel:  Dude…

T.Rex:  No.  I’m not saying I PLAN on it, but I damn sure didn’t “Plan” on it at Revolution.  It, just… kinda happened. 

Arch Angel:  Stop.

T.Rex:  I’m just saying… if I T.Rex-Rage… accidentally… of course… it’ll look REALLY hypocritical. 

Arch Angel:  I thought that unlike Loco, we cared much less about how other people view us?  So that whatever people like Project Hero, or even Maya happen to think or say when it comes to us, it doesn’t matter?  We’re going to go to the ring, and crack skulls-

T.Rex:  Or get choked out.

Arch Angel:  Last check you got distracted by a guy on a PHONE, and got launched out of the ring.  And I have it on good damn authority that your landing triggered on the richter scale!

A middle finger from Teddy. The two share a chuckle.  Arch Angel reaches over and grabs the remote.  One more shot of the screen.  T.Rex driving the chair down.  He hits power and the screen goes black.

Arch Angel:  Lets try to make sure the only weapons we bring into the ring are our fists, and lets show SHOOT that the former Tag Champs are STILL a force to be reckoned with.

T.Rex smiles and nods confidently before hamming it up by kissing each of his fists, which causes Arch Angel to belly laugh. 


The Epicenter / Omar Coming... Zex too! {ii for ANARCHY!}
« on: September 21, 2014, 02:16:34 PM »
Fuggin’ FUGG!!!

Its a Sunday inside the humble abode of ANARCHY!  So of course there are two TVs, each playing an NFL game.  Two laptops, each following the day’s fantasy outputs of various players.  There’s even an old beat up notebook sitting to the left of an agitated T.Rex.  Arch Angel rolls his eyes and looks at his friend, roommate, and tag team partner.

Arch Angel:  What is it now? 

T.Rex:  Fuggin’ Sproles fumbled.  I didn’t start him LAST week, now THIS! 

Arch Angel:  Shoulda picked up Matthews.  Foles targeting him a lot.  More than Cooper, for sure. 

There is a pause.  T.Rex takes a sip of water, he looks with disdain at the spread of health conscious food laying in front of them.

T.Rex:  I don’t think wings woulda been THAT bad. 

Arch Angel: C’mon dude, we got this far.  We agreed.   Starting this week NO “cheat days” until AFTER Master of the Mat.

T.Rex:  I wasn’t thinking clearly when I agreed to that.  You’s two ganged up on me and peer pressured that.  I forgot its football season.  Veggie platters, or fruit ain’t NFL Sunday food.  We should have a couple pies.  4 dozen wings.  And beer. 

Arch Angel:  Shut up, and eat some celery. 

T.Rex begrudgingly takes a stick of celery and bites.  Each man becomes distracted by the televisions in front of them.  Arch Angel looks at T.Rex after a play unfolds.  T.Rex almost frowns as he swallows his mouthful of celery. 

Arch Angel:  So this week? 

T.Rex:  Yeah?

Arch Angel:  Zex and Omar.  Feels like this fight could be on the up and up.

T.Rex:  Good!  After last week we could use a little “up and up” when it comes to our matches. 

Arch Angel:  I know… right?  Its weird to have been the receiving and giving end of some injustice last week. 

T.Rex:  Dude, what were we gonna do?  We tried to fight off those raving meth-heads.  We got put in a fight with Maya.  It sucked, but it was bidness.  Its not like we’re Zex, who can apparently deny his bookings, and has some sort of veto clause.  We ain’t carrying that kind of clout.  Not two guys in the fiddy’s… Journey men tag team types.  I assure you that… WHOEVER… put us in that match ain’t worried about our delicate sensibilities.  Whoever put us in that match?? Damn sure has enough stroke to fire our asses to for refusing. 

Arch Angel:  But would we have really refused, even if we thought it was a possibility?

T.Rex ponders this.  Shakes his head “no”.

T.Rex:  Not likely.  We’re paid to fight.  Don’t matter if its tag team matches or used in handicapped matches, or shit if they wanna stack the odds against US.  This ain’t a bidness where you can get too preachy-

Arch Angel: Unless you’re last name is Jarvis. 

T.Rex:  Of course. 

A play unfolds on the screen, Teddy winces, sighs. The Colts celebrating in the end zone as they continue to roll up the points.

Arch Angel:  You bet on that game? 

T.Rex: Yeah I took Jacksonville and the points. 

Arch Angel tries to stifle a laugh, but fails.

T.Rex:  Fugg off, Chris. 

Arch Angel:  Sorry dude, I’m glad you’re better in a ring than you are picking winners. 

T.Rex:  Yeah its like some dude has a fuggin’ voodoo doll out there and he’s just messing with every bet I make this season!  I took LSU, last night.  I took fuggin’ TAMPA BAY on Thursday. 

Arch Angel is now doubled over laughing at T.Rex’s betting ineptitude.  After a few moments he composes himself.  T.Rex glaring at him.

Arch Angel:  Sorry, man.  Not nice to make fun of how badly you suck at sports betting.  Almost feels unfair that so much of your SHOOT paychecks end up being lost.   That hurts… as much as Omar and Zex will be hurting LIVE at REVOLUTION ONE THIRTY!!!

T.Rex smirks.

T.Rex: Well done. 

Arch Angel:  I try. 

T.Rex:  Ya know its good to be facing a TEAM.  I mean it may have been a while since they teamed, but they have a history.  Maybe this is them getting into the tag ranks.  MAYBE this is another unit coming in to SHOOT’s tag team ranks, and I think a fight with two guys who know each other like they do?  Two young bucks-

Arch Angel:  Dude, they are both in their thirties. 

T.Rex:  Yeah,  that’s why I said “young bucks”. 

Arch Angel:  Man, they’re not exactly what I’d call “young bucks”. 

T.Rex:  Compared to US?

Arch Angel weighs this and nods.

Arch Angel:  Fair enough.  But like you said, they haven’t been a team in SHOOT.  Hell Zex was saying how he had an issue being pigeon holed as the dreaded “Tag Team Specialist”. 

T.Rex:  Shit… we ONLY tag team specialists

They share a laugh.

Arch Angel:  Yeah.  I guess if you never adventure into wanting some sort of singles stardom?   People can’t be all “No one is here to help you” type shit…

T.Rex:   Yeah and its more of a fuggin’ miracle if you DON’T see the two of us together.  That fugger over there?  That’s my brother.  Known each other for DECADES.  Been TAGGING for… shit…. damn near 20 years? 

Arch Angel:  Something like that. 

T.Rex: And  like fine wine, or cheese, or art… We just keep getting better and more valuable… and of course SEXIER with age! 

Arch Angel chuckles and rolls his eyes.

T.Rex:  And dude is thinking we’re gonna make some sort of joke about him and Omar being “partners”? 

A collective scoff.

T.Rex: Shit, we LIVE together.  In lesser minded times… maybe we woulda.  But-

Arch Angel: Wait. Are you implying you’re HIGHER minded now?

T.Rex: Well… yeah.

Arch Angel:  So you’re saying you’re a renaissance man, of sort?

T.Rex:  I dunno if I’d go THAT far, but I’m more open minded.  More LEARN…ED.   

Arch Angel:  You’re… more… LEARN… ED?! 

T.Rex:  Yeah man.  Back in the day?  New Jersey in the 80s we’d say and do some shit that was pretty uncouth.   I think we… especially ME have grown up. 

Arch Angel:  Only took you forty three years... wait did you just use the word "uncouth"? 

T.Rex:  Yeah.  What of it? 

Arch Angel:  Dude, define uncouth.  No.  Fuck THAT!   SPELL...  UNCOUTH. 

T.Rex:   U...N... dude... that's not the damn point!   I’m just sayin’… Even though the guy might be pissed at us, or not talking to us right now?  I’m proud to say Maya Nakashima is a good friend.  I think the thirty year old me wouldn’ta been like dat. 

Arch Angel: I KNOW thirty year old you wouldn’ta been like that.  Back in the day dudes would make those comments and jokes that Zex referenced and you’da blown your top.  You’d get all freaked out and try over compensating, or some shit. 

T.Rex:  Yeah.  I probably didn’t handle that shit so good. 

Arch Angel:  About as well as you handled the English language that sentence. 

T.Rex: What’s that supposed to  mean?

Arch Angel rolls his eyes, and shakes his head.

Arch Angel: Never mind, Teddy.  Just keep focused on Zex and Omar. 

T.Rex’s eyes light up something just crossing his mind.  He begins to whistle “The Farmer in the Dell”.   Arch Angel shakes his head.

Arch Angel:  Yes, Teddy…  At Revolution, “Omar’s coming”.   

T.Rex:  Fugg yeah and if he’s fixing to come at the kings?   

Arch Angel nods knowingly.

Arch Angel:  They best not miss. 

The two smile confidently as we slowly fade to black.  Audio still on.

T.Rex:  I guess technically we ain’t the kings right now. 

Arch Angel:  Nah, not currently.  We got some Game of Thrones "Usurper" type shit going on.

T.Rex:  We’re gonna have to do something ‘bout that. 


The Epicenter / Mysteries and Enigmas {i for ANARCHY!}
« on: September 10, 2014, 03:56:11 PM »
A few days ago saw the boys of ANARCHY! involved in a “match” that involved a rave, baseball bats, and an incredible amount of pain and punishment.  Which is why both men are back inside the depths of the Epicenter once again being checked out by SHOOT Project medical staff members. 

A few days ago the boys of ANARCHY!  were involved in a  SECOND “match” where they were put into a handicapped match with the SHOOT Project World Heavyweight Champion.  Which is why the two of them are sitting quietly as a doctor pokes and prods at Arch Angel’s ribs.  Angel winces and takes a sharp breath between his teeth.  T.Rex laying shirtless face down on the table next to Arch Angel.

Doctor:  Okay.  So no breaks.  But you did dislocate two ribs, and a mild intercostal strain.  We’re gonna pop them back into place. 

Arch Angel:  What’s the time table?

Doctor:  A week, or so of rest.  We’ll give you some exercises to help.  We’ll tape you up too.  Probably tape you up for the match at Revolution.   Lay down?

Arch Angel nods, and lays back on his table.  Next to him a blonde trainer has appeared and begins sticking stim pads to T.Rex’s upper back and shoulder.  She talks to Teddy.

Trainer:  So, we’ll do stim for the back spasms, and shoulder sprain.  Plus we’ll give you some stuff you can do to help stabilize and increase range of motion with the shoulder.  We’ll probably tape you up too for Revolution. 

Face down we hear T.Rex grumble and growl.  The trainer, no stranger to grumpy athletes just smiles and continues on her work.

Trainer:  I know its not ideal.   The tape can restrict motion, but can help prevent further damage from happening.

The Doctor violently leans into Arch Angel’s rib cage and we hear, a mild grunt from Angel followed by a soft pop, followed by a louder groan from the pain that just shot through his body.

Doctor:  Sorry. 

Arch Angel:  Not your fault, Doc.  Can’t help it if three baseball wielding meth head fucktards came out and decided to send some sort of statement. 

Doctor:  Yeah.  It sucks, and Teddy? She’s right.  The tape will probably be necessary, and considering all the ramped up talk of your tag title rematch, probably for the best that you try to avoid extra damage.

T.Rex:  I know, but him with taped ribs.  Me with the shoulder and back?  Just tape fuggin’ bullseyes to us.  And since we got our third match in two shows, and since this is all happening BEFORE we get a rematch?  So, forgive me for not being little Sally Sunshine

The Doctor has walked to the other side of Arch Angel.  Same thing.  Violent push, pop, and a groan.  He taps Arch Angel who sits up.  He reaches and grabs the tap to get to work at wrapping Arch Angel’s torso.   The table next to him the trainer has hooked up T.Rex and is beginning to work at plugging each wire into the machine.  Arch Angel looks at T.Rex getting hooked up, all the wires running from his body and chuckles.

T.Rex:  Our ass kicking ticklin’ y’er funny bone, Chris?

Arch Angel:  You just have all these wires coming out of your back… like we just pulled you out of the Matrix. 

T.Rex:  Fuggin’ lovely. 

Arch Angel:  Dude… what are we gonna do?  We gonna mope about the beating?  What’d we do when shit’d get hairy at the Bar?  We took our fair share of lumps. 

T.Rex:  Still…

Arch Angel:  Dude, I’m not saying don’t be pissed.  I’m not saying we're gonna let Quinn, Riley, Wailer, and Mystery-dude get away with that shit.   WHEN we get the chance we’re gonna go exterminate some rabid vermin. 

T.Rex: Fugg yeah we are.

Arch Angel:  Assuming Vermont’s Finest doesn’t get the job done first. 

T.Rex:  Yeah I trust Wipo with that task about as much as I’d trust him with a dozen of my Krispy Kreme’s. 

Arch Angel laughs a little too hard and then winces.

Arch Angel:  Well, right now that’s gonna have to wait.  For as much as I want to punch those scummy rats till my knuckles go numb?  We got other stuff going on. 

T.Rex:  I dunno man, who’s saying those shit sippers don’t decide they ain’t done with US.  As much as I don’t LIKE Wipo?  IF Vermont’s Finest didn’t get out there?  THIS wouldn’t be the medical treatment we’d be receiving.  There wouldn’t be a match at One Thirty with Zex and Omar.  Hell, there damn sure wouldn’t have been a match with Maya later the same damn night-

Doctor:  Not to chime in, but you guys really shouldn’t have done that.

Arch Angel:  Yeah we gonna talk about THAT?

T.Rex shrugs on the table.

T.Rex:  What’s to talk about?  We were told to fight.  We fought.  Feel bad for Maya, but it is what it is. 

Arch Angel:  Yeah… but…  Its just… 

T.Rex:  Weird?

T.Rex:  Yeah.  But that’s our JOB.  We got word we had a match.  We went and had our match.  A match we WON, for what its worth with the World Champ. 

Arch Angel:  Yeah, two on one with a guy who is a quarter of our collective weight, and wasn’t coming in at a hundred percent. 

Doctor:  Just to clarify, I’m not passing judgement on you fighting Maya, just that you guys weren’t fully cleared.  With the injuries you had already sustained a match, even a handicapped like that?  A bad idea. 

T.Rex:  Ain’t the first time.  Probably not the last.  We don’t tend to be too bright, Doc… and We don’t turn down fights. 

Arch Angel:  Yeah and what about the text?

T.Rex:  Like I’ve told you a dozen and  a half times, Chris?  Got a text from a blocked number,  but it checked out. 

Arch Angel:  Do you think…

T.Rex:  That it was Jay? 

A long silence hangs over the room.

T.Rex:  I don’t know… BUT would it surprise you?  I mean, the reason we got back INTO this bidness was because he wanted, for lack of a better term, henchmen.  We trucked that trophy case around and cracked skulls.  That’s all we did. 

Arch Angel furrows his brow, contemplating.

Arch Angel:  Yeah…  I hope-

T.Rex:  Yeah man, me too, but?  Its not like this bidness is a place that foster’s hope.  He’s THAT close to everything he wanted.  He’s THAT close to winning that belt.  He’s THAT close to etching his name along side some of the absolute greats of this industry.  We KNOW the monster that he’s kept at bay since we all made the trip to Vegas.  The monster he can be.  All too well...

T.Rex trails off...  Arch Angel sighs heavily.

Arch Angel:  So you think Maya is right?

Another long pause.

T.Rex:  I think he COULD be. 

Arch Angel:  So when he slapped away your hand?

T.Rex:  Guy probably thinks we’re in on it.  Why wouldn’t he?  We hitched our wagon to that star a long time ago… a galaxy far away where, it just so happens, Loco Martinez made Maya’s life a living hell. 

Arch Angel:  Yeah… but man… Look at everything Jay’s done to try to right those wrongs.  To erase that old self.  To be the man and wrestler he wants to be. 

T.Rex:  Yeah, but success can do that to people.  Live by that old, “By Any Means Necessary”.  I mean hell, how can WE be so sure?  Have we seen Jay around?  Have we hung with him? 

Knowing silence as Arch Angel gives a resigned nod.

T.Rex:  Ex-fuggin’-zactly.  Ain’t that far fetched.  Ain’t out of the realm of possibility that once again he used US as his pawns.  Henchmen sent out there to soften up an opponent. 

Arch Angel:  But then why not just let us know?  Why not tell us he’s doing this?

T.Rex:  What’s that big phrase I’ve heard tossed around this week… When they talking about the NFL shit…

Arch Angel:  Plausible deniability?

T.Rex:  Bingo! 

Arch Angel:  Still… I dunno… I just feel like Jay wouldn’t do this. 

T.Rex:  I’m just saying if he DID?  Don’t feel like your heart got ripped out and stepped on.  Don’t come crying to THIS shoulder.

Arch Angel:  Dude if I came crying to THAT shoulder it’d fall off.

T.Rex:  Good point. 

They share a chuckle.  The stim begins.  T.Rex sighs.

T.Rex:  That feels so fuggin’ weird. 

Arch Angel:  Yeah, "weird" sums up our last four months, huh?  We lose our tag titles to a team who’s Master of the Mat “tune up” is fighting EACH OTHER.  We have to go on to lose weight, and get ourselves back into wrestling shape and then end up getting attacked by wrestling’s version of the Isle of Misfit Toys-

T.Rex:  Yeah if they were METHED OUT.

Arch Angel:  Isle of Methed Out Misfits Toys?  That works.  Put in a handicapped match against a close friend and NOW?  A proper tag team match-

T.Rex:  MAYBE.  Remember last week started off pretty normal.

Arch Angel: How?  The announced match got switched by Captain Politic and the Religious Right slime their way out of a match, and put in two guys.  We didn’t get to the ring.  The ONLY way One Twenty Nine classifies as “normal” was simply on the poster.  This week Zex and Omar , assuming we make it to the ring?  Are two quality competitors.    Both men coming off rough losses to two of SHOOT’s baddest and best in the Master of the Mat quarters.  And its not like these two are strangers. 

T.Rex:  True.  They’re former tag champs  Though lets be real… after Crippler and Laz?  Even the guys who ain’t buddy buddy can get it done any given night. 

Arch Angel smirks.

Arch Angel:  So needless to say these two are gonna be hungry to put us down.  Each of them THAT close to moving on in Master of the Mat?  Each one just coming up short.  You know we’re in for a helluva contest. 

Arch Angel’s tape job is being finished up.  He looks down a second before pulling a t-shirt over his head, gingerly.

Arch Angel:  You think they’re the types to focus on our respective “bullseyes”? 

T.Rex:  I don’t think they’ll target them in a dirty way, necessarily?  But they won’t shy away from them either.  Ya know?  If an opponent came with ribs taped up?  Know I’m slamming and driving shoulders into their midsection at every given chance.  In the NFL, if you’re fuggin’ safeties are hurt?  Get ready for a heaping dose of the deep ball.  Know what I’m saying?

Arch Angel:  Yeah man, if there’s one thing I understand is a good sports metaphor. 

T.Rex:  Except when its soccer.

Arch Angel:  Yeah or Loco talking about swimming. 

T.Rex squirms in a little discomfort.

T.Rex:  Dude, can you wrap this up.  This is kinda…

Arch Angel nods, as if Teddy can see him.

Arch Angel:  Yeah man.  No worries.   You know after the week we had, we want nothing more than a straight ahead match, fellas.  You’s two seem like the types that’ll give us that.  UN. FOR.TU.NATELY?  There seems to be some forces at hand where I don’t know if that’ll happen.  Ultimately that’s an US problem-

T.Rex: Unless they wanna help out a little more than Fuggin’ Spot Monkey and the Crusher did-

Arch Angel:  I thought you were done.

T.Rex: I was, but dammit if the fuggin’ lights go out and that god awful music hits, which was almost as much as an assault as the fuggin’ BATS?  I’m not above asking Zex and Owens to maybe help a couple Jersey Bros out.

Arch Angel laughs, which causes him to wince.

Arch Angel: Fuck, dude stop making me laugh.

T.Rex:  After thirty something years, dude?  You KNOW I can’t turn this off.

Arch Angel smirks knowingly.

Arch Angel:  Still.  We don’t really KNOW you two.  Seem like pretty stand up dudes.  We KNOW you’re talented as hell in the ring and if things fell just a smidge differently?  We might be facing Corazon and Entragian this week?  But we’re not.  So at Revolution we can give you a warm ANARCHY! styled welcome to SHOOT.  A quality match… a quality TAG TEAM Match with four men who know a thing or six about tag team wrestling with each other.   Even if we don’t know a ton about one another past our respective jobs, careers, and maybe a thing or two about some hobbies, or the company we keep.  If things go as they SHOULD, it can be an excellent tag team contest.  A great challenge for us to see exactly what kind of shape we’re in.  We’re going in there with two guys who are polished and have been battling Revolution after Revolution.  Working to make a name for themselves inside SHOOT.  We might be your elders, but we’re still hungry-

T.Rex:  Cuz of that damn diet!

Arch Angel:  Teddy, YOU WERE DONE!

T.Rex:  sorry.

Arch Angel:  We had THE prize for Tag Teams inside SHOOT Project.  We had those babies for a damn long time and we’re working ourselves to get back to them.  Maybe you have the same goal?  Maybe this is just a little detour down “Tag Team Alley” for you’s two?  But this is what we do.  This is everything ANARCHY has been, and probably ever will be.   Two dudes who come to rings to clobber.  We may not give you two a five star wrestling match?  But we’re gonna damn sure give you a fight.

As good a line as any to go out on.  A smile from Arch Angel.    T.Rex turns his good arm and gives a thumbs up.


The Epicenter / ANARCHY! A Non-Prophet Organization {ii}
« on: August 26, 2014, 01:10:55 PM »
”You’ve GOT to be fuggin’ kidding me.  No.  This is a rib, right?  Some sorta fuggin’ joke?”

We fade as T.Rex punctuates his anger with a frustrated growl.  The scene is rather amusing, although possibly confusing.  It appears to be the set of a Telethon.  A series of tables on risers, each with their own brightly colored phone.  Hanging above the tables is a tally board reading:  0.00.

T.Rex in a powder blue tuxedo, with the bow tie untied dangling loosely stares dumbfounded at his friend and tag team partner who is in a match powder blue tux.

Arch Angel:  Nah man.  Got the call this morning.  Sounds like Jarvis and Jonny are “officially” out. 

T.Rex shakes his head and chuckles.

T.Rex:  So we don’t have a match?

Arch Angel’s chance to chuckle.

Arch Angel:  Not… Exactly.  Apparently we’ll have opponents.  I guess fighting under the “Project: Hero” banner or some shit.   

T.Rex lets out a low frustrated growl.

T.Rex:  For two guys screaming to high hell that they aren’t a “stable”, they damn sure are fuggin’ acting like one.  And let me guess we ain’t gonna get a clue who these two are gonna be?

Arch Angel:  Nah.  Even if SHOOT had a fucking group of P.I.’s at their disposal?  No way they’re getting that info from Jonny.  No way he’ll return any of their calls.  Lets be real… that’s a one way street.  If JONNY wants something.  He’ll be all over whoever he needs to be over like a fly on shit.  If SHOOT or someone else needs something from HIM?  Guy might as well be Jimmy fucking Hoffa.

The frustration hangs heavy in the air.  The location clearly isn’t helping.  Purple Haze strolls in.

Purple Haze:  So the telethon is off? 

T.Rex:  Yeah man, s'pose we can’t  raise money for “Jonny’s Kids” as well as his bum wrist… if he ain't gonna even ATTEMPT to put that wrist into action.

Arch Angel:  It WAS his "bum wrist"… and apparently now the whole left side of his anatomy…

T.Rex:  Right.  Those medical bills are gonna be STEEP.  *He gestures widely to his surroundings.*   We were just gonna flex OUR charitable muscles after being so very inspired by the two of them.  Those warm hearted generous individuals.  The beacons of inspiration and excellence.

Arch Angel:  Plus don’t forget the Non-Prophet word play.

T.Rex nods with a tinge of sadness.

T.Rex: That was my favorite part.

Purple looks confused.

Arch Angel:  They’re a non-profit, Purp.  We’re a “Non-PROPHET” entity. 

This doesn’t help as the two words sound exactly the same.


Purple Haze:  Saying it slow isn’t helping worth a SHIT.  Of course you’re not a non profit we weren’t REALLY going to raise any money!

T.Rex face palms.  Arch Angel chuckles.

Arch Angel:  NO.  Not a non-profit.  A Non… … … PROPHET.

Purple Haze is clearly getting frustrated.


Arch Angel:  No!  Profit… as in earning cash or money.  Prophet, as in the religious thing. Ya know?  A prophet spreads the word of god.  Jarvis is a Prophet -

T.Rex:  And a fuggin’ FALSE one at that-

Arch Angel:  And SO?  ANARCHY!  Are a Non-Prophet Organization. 

The lightbulb goes off for Purple. Then his eyes narrow.

Purple Haze:  Well that’s clever. Probably a little too clever for you’s two.

The look offended for a split second before T.Rex looks down guiltily.

T.Rex:  Loco texted it to me. 

The three men share a laugh.

T.Rex:  Still, it fits. 

Arch Angel: Hell yeah it does.  There ain’t a prophet in Anarchy. 

T.Rex: But there is  profit! 

Arch Angel:  Of course.  We’re cash, money, baby.  Plus the “Sin City’s Official Tag Team” shirts are flying off the shelves.   

T.Rex:  And THAT goes to a very good charity.  The “Don’t let T.Rex and Arch Angel  become homeless again Association”. 

Purple Haze:  Also helps supplement the “Fly Purple Haze out to Vegas for training and blackjack, Fund.” 

Arch Angel: Damn look at US?!  All these charities we’re spearheading!   You two fellas, while you avoided this match?  Look at the positive impact you had on us!

T.Rex: Yup, and now at Revolution we’re gonna provide an internship for two young wrestlers.  Give them a little on the job experience.  Mostly a clobberin’… but hey.  They’ll be able to say they set foot inside a SHOOT Ring.  Battled former Tag Team Champions, and twenty fourteens tag team O’ the Year! 

Arch Angel:  Yeah, and while it really is NO consolation that I won’t get to punch Paul’s Pious pucker-

T.Rex: Nice. 

Arch Angel:  Yeah.  It will at least be an awesome outlet when we step foot in the ring with… WHOEVER Jonny mind fucks into thinking its a good idea to fight his battles for him.  ESPECIALLY when that battle is against US. 

T.Rex feigns offense.  Drips sarcasm.

T.Rex:  Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.  Jonny Johnson, superhero, legend, and all around swell guy… does NOT twist people’s minds to get what he wants.  THEY are all out to get him… JUST LIKE WE ARE OUT TO GET HIM!!!   Like Paul said… Us ignorant masses don’t see the good The Defiler does.  That everything he does is TRUE and RIGHT and JUST.  He is willing to sacrifice anything… Maybe EVERYTHING…

Arch Angel: Minus his left wrist. 

T.Rex:  Chris! You’re being too harsh.  What if that’s his “whackin’ wrist”!

Arch Angel ponders this possibility with faux sincerity and nods.

Arch Angel: That is a serious loss.  I think if there is ONE thing Jonny Johnson excels at?  It’d be “Loving Himself” - so to speak. 

T.Rex and Purple laugh hard at the zinger.

T.Rex:  So we still have a match at Revolution, and while we don’t know who?  We know WHAT’s gonna happen. 

T.Rex buries his right fist into his left hand menacingly.

Arch Angel:  Yeah… Jonny, you might wanna keep some of the Project: Hero cash freed up for these two kids.  There might be a hospital trip in their future, and it really wouldn't be CHARITABLE for you to get these two to fight FOR you and then for you to stick 'em with the hospital bill!

T.Rex:  Fuggin’ A right. 

The two glare at the camera for a few moments. Purple Haze looks at his surroundings.

Purple Haze: So who is going to take this apart?

It dawns on the boys of ANARCHY! that all the prep work to set up their mock “Telethon” and their shoulders get heavy with the knowledge that all the prep work was for nothing.  They trudge off to start taking it down and we go to black.

Loco Martinez / Profile: Loco Martinez
« on: August 24, 2014, 08:18:01 PM »
Name:Loco Martinez
Handler:Sir Scott M. Hayes xiv
Nicknames: MoFo, Freakshow, Greatest Show on Earth, Jay
Weight:214 lbs.
Hometown:Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Music:”We R Who We R” by the Ke$ha
Biography:Born Jay Martinez in Philadelphia, Loco was raised by his mother, Gabriella.  Was given the nickname “Loco” on the playgrounds of his elementary school, and it stuck throughout his life.  He started pro wrestling before he had graduated high school, but still managed to get his degree at the behest of his mom.   He also has his degree from Saint Joseph’s University, BS in Elementary Education, and continues to be an active alumnus at the institution.   
Personality:Loco has a very high energy, happy go lucky personality. He’s a bit goofy, loves pop culture, candy. He has a child like exuberance, and does everything with the purpose of enjoying himself. Has a great sense of humor. A strong competitive drive and has a temper if/when the right buttons are pushed.

History:Loco was trained by Purple Haze, who is still involved in his career, and pops in from time to time.  Purple is how Loco met and got to know the boys of ANARCHY!  He first started wrestling at now defunct AWA.  It was there where he became well known for his manic persona, as well as his ability inside the ring.  He was a bit of a journey-man.  Never really staying in one place too long.  Be it outside interests, injuries, or the pleading of his mom… He didn’t fully dedicate himself to being a wrestler until 2005, which also coincided with his first appearance inside the SHOOT Project.  What followed was the most successful five year span of his career, but also left him run down and physically broken down.  He “retired”, but as it tends to be in Pro-Wrestling?  The Retirement didn’t stick.  After a sixth month hiatus, Loco was back inside a SHOOT ring.   He’s back and going at it hard.  He knows there isn’t  a lot of sand left in the hourglass of his career and he’s trying to make the most of it, and to bring smiles to the SHOOT Project, and maybe a championship to his trophy case.
Wrestling Style:American High Flyer/All Arounder -
Finisher Name:(1)Zombie Kill of the Week
(2) Happiness
Description:(1) Flying Knee to the Temple (spring board, or off the top rope) See: Seth Rollins
(2) Split Legged Moonsault
Moveset:General Info: He’s very acrobatic both in his evasions (cartwheels, backflips, handsprings, etc) and in his variations on offensive maneuvers. Willing to fly and take risks. Utilizes speed for both offensive and defensive tactics. Has been a trained wreslter since he was 17 so over his 15 year career has become well versed in a lot of different styles, and will try switching things up depending on his opponent’s size and weaknesses he thinks he can exploit.

Basic Moveset:
European uppercuts 
LOVES to throw his feet around as weapons with any kind of kick he can think of, including roundhouse kicks, dropkicks, spinning heel kicks, jumping front kicks, mule kicks, a short arm superkick used to be his finisher.

northern lights  

, bulldogs, 
and other ways to take his opponent to his mat using his entire body (aside from the parts the censors won’t allow him to use)

Signature Moves:

1. That Warm Fuzzy Feeling **Sometimes an alternate Finisher**
(Backflip/moonsault off top or middle rope into reverse DDT) 

2. Cruiserweight Chokeslam (very rarely, only on cruiserweights) 

3. Loco Driver of DOOM
( Loco calls out “LOCO DRIVER OF DOOM” and goes for a double underhook piledriver ) **NOTE!!! Loco’s hit this move approximately 1 every 50-100 times he tries it. Almost NEVER. Opponent usually hits a back body drop. Only goes for this move on opponents roughly his size or smaller**

AMA - Soldiers, Staff, & Fans / AMA: The Sheriff
« on: August 24, 2014, 07:36:54 PM »
So, have at it. 

T-Rex / Profile: T.Rex
« on: August 23, 2014, 07:44:43 PM »
Handler:The Sheriff of Scottingham
Nicknames:Theodore Rexx (real name), Teddy, Rexx, Sexy Rexy (self given)
Weight:330 lbs.
Hometown:Seaside Heights, New Jersey
Music:"Roar" by the Katy Perry
Biography:Born and raised in New Jersey. Met Arch Angel at wrestling school.  Bounced and Clobbered their way up and down the eastern seaboard.   
Personality:T.Rex is explosive. Has a temper, and little self control. He’s also not very bright. Can be gullible and tends to leave himself open for mockery, which even his closest friends enjoy exploiting. Much more likely to engage in trash talking and has no shortage of self confidence.

History:Teddy was bouncing to help pay for training. When he got a full time wrestling job he decided to recruit his friend and fellow bouncer, ARch Angel to come with him. Then the two ended up being united in their first company, and experienced a good deal of success early on. When that company closed, the two moved back to Jersey and continued to bounce and wrestle a lot of independent dates up and down the east coast. Especially in NYC, Philly, and Atlantic City. It was years later when Loco Martinez showed up on their doorstep and enlisted them to be added muscle as well as his personal “Caretakers of the Trophy Case”. In addition to this they were able to wade into the tag division getting so close to becoming tag champions on a few occasions. Eventually Loco left and that place shut down, and again they ended up back in New Jersey. Until being enlisted solely as added muscle for the SHOOT Project’s “Hierarchy”. When that group disbanded the two figured it was their last time at making it in wrestling. It took a natural disaster and them being homeless for them to decide to make one more go of it. They contacted their long time friend, Loco Martinez and he helped get their feet into the SHOOT Project door. Now in the twilight of their career they are looking to make one more run as a tag team and hope with Martinez’s guidance they can be successful.

Awards:1x SHOOT Project Tag Team Champion
2013 Tag Team of the Year
Wrestling Style:SUPER UNscientific: Clobberer/Brawler/Bouncer/High Impact
Finisher Name:Extinction Event
Tag Team Finisher:  "Watch it Burn"
Description:Reverse Splash from middle rope (Vader Bomb)
T.Rex still does the "Vader Bomb" from the middle WHILE Arch Angel hits a pedigree on the opponent.
Clubbing forearms
Side belly to belly suplex
running splash into the corner
body slam
world strongest slam
headbutts (standing and also a falling headbutt to a downed opponent while standing on the mat)

Arch Angel / Profile: Arch Angel
« on: August 23, 2014, 07:37:32 PM »
Name:Arch Angel
Handler:Scott Hayes
Nicknames:Chris, Fender, Angel
Weight:307 lbs.
Hometown:Seaside Heights, New Jersey
Music:"Roar" by the Katy Perry
Biography:Born and raised in New Jersey. Met T.Rex at wrestling school.  Bounced and Clobbered their way up and down the eastern seaboard.   
Personality:Arch Angel is the more laid back member of Anarchy.  Isn’t as outspoken or boisterous or as quickly enraged/annoyed/short tempered as T.Rex, but he does have a temper and is very hard to calm down if its triggered.  Tends to use a subtle sense of humor and sarcasm both to needle his friends and opponents.

History:Was introduced to the world of wrestling via his long time friend and co-worker at a local dive bar, Theodore Rexx (T.Rex). Bouncing helped pay for their training. Then the two ended up being united in their first company, and experienced a good deal of success early on. When that company closed, the two moved back to Jersey and continued to bounce and wrestle a lot of independent dates up and down the east coast. Especially in NYC, Philly, and Atlantic City. It was years later when Loco Martinez showed up on their doorstep and enlisted them to be added muscle as well as his personal “Caretakers of the Trophy Case”. In addition to this they were able to wade into the tag division getting so close to becoming tag champions on a few occasions. Eventually Loco left and that place shut down, and again they ended up back in New Jersey. Until being enlisted solely as added muscle for the SHOOT Project’s “Hierarchy”. When that group disbanded the two figured it was their last time at making it in wrestling. It took a natural disaster and them being homeless for them to decide to make one more go of it. They contacted their long time friend, Loco Martinez and he helped get their feet into the SHOOT Project door. Now in the twilight of their career they are looking to make one more run as a tag team and hope with Martinez’s guidance they can be successful.

Awards:1x SHOOT Project Tag Team Champion
2013 Tag Team of the Year
Wrestling Style:UNscientific: Brawler/Bouncer/High Impact
Finisher Name:Weight of the Halo
Description:Cradle Piledriver (see: Jerry Lynn)
Moveset:Punches and Kicks
Muay Thai clench with knees into the body/head (not super polished)
Clotheslines (especially short arm)
Big Boot, both standing and running
Slams (body/running powerslam/sidewalk)
Suplexes (slingshot/side suplex/vertical/side belly to belly)
Powerbomb (rarely)
Snake eyes

The Epicenter / ...More like PROJECT ZERO... amiright? {i - ANARCHY!}
« on: August 21, 2014, 08:51:00 PM »
The Gruff, gravelly, Jersey tinged voice of Theodore Rexx.

”Project HERO… More like PROJECT… … … ZERO!!!  AMIRIGHT?”

Judging by the silence that greets this punchline… he is in fact less than right.  We fade in and T.Rex is standing there arms crossed a triumphant grin plastered on his face like this one liner was the greatest comedic feat man has ever witnessed.  The man hanging with him, his tag team partner, Arch Angel, and their coach, trainer, mentor, Purple Haze stand stoically for a few moments before Arch Angel sighs and shakes his head.

Arch Angel:  Terrible, dude. 

T.Rex:  C’mon.  That’s funny!

Purple Haze:  I ain’t the hippest guy on this earth, but… WHERE exactly is THAT funny?

His arms drop.  His proud body language melts away. 

Arch Angel:  Its okay, Teddy.  They can’t all be gems. 

Purple Haze:  Wouldn’t hurt if SOME of ‘em were. 

Arch Angel chuckles.  T.Rex in his work out shorts and black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off walks over and plops down on the bench inside the gym.  Purple Haze walks over and slaps T.Rex on the shoulder.

Purple Haze:  Its okay Theodore.  SHOOT don’t pay you for your wit.  And safe to say your wit didn’t help win you the Tag Team Championships.   

T.Rex extends a playful middle finger at his mentor.

Arch Angel:  He’s right, Ted.  Your clobberin’ took care of that.  And now that we’re back down to our fighting weight?  SHIT…  Time to get back to doing what we do best. 

Purple Haze:  He’s right.   You two finally back to where you need to be to get into that SHOOT ring and be everything you can be. 

Arch Angel:  And this week we have ourselves a helluva test. 

T.Rex:  Yeah… Kind of. 

Arch Angel:  KIND OF?

T.Rex:  Well… I mean.  You can’t sit there and think Jonny and Jarvis are coming in without SOME rust.  I mean, shit.  When’s the last time those two wrestled? 

Long silence.  No one of the three of them have any idea.

T.Rex:  Exactly.  Jonny’s wrist finally got to the percentage where he can FINALLY get into the ring.  He and his buddy decide to set up this charity.  Decide to play the role of  heroes inside SHOOT… or whatever the fugg they plan on doing.  But yeah Johnson’s been in SHOOT for… feels like… ever and outside of coming out to TELL people how he’s better than ‘em, and how he’s dedicated to ‘em?  He’s avoided actually FIGHTING like the plague.  And Jarvis? 

Teddy stops.  Looks. Shrugs.

Arch Angel:  that’s all you got on Paul Jarvis? 

T.Rex:  YOU got MORE?

Arch Angel weighs this for a few moments.

Arch Angel:  Ain’t like we’ve ever crossed paths with him all that much. 

T.Rex:  Not like we’ve really crossed paths with Jonny all that much.  So?  I feel solid with my shrug. 

Purple Haze:  Well what they were, or ARE… or whatever their collective motives may or may not be.  We DO know they’re both talented men inside that ring.  We also know they’re both well versed in tag team wrestling, even if they don’t have tons of experience as a team themselves. 

T.Rex: Yeah.  I’m just saying.  They’re gonna be rusty.  Can’t stay crisp and clean and on top when coming back from huge breaks.  Shit.  Look at what a few months off did to US? 

Purple Haze:  Yeah, but you guys are SPECIAL Teddy.

T.Rex beams a huge smile, not picking up on the joke.

Arch Angel:  He didn’t mean that in a positive way.

T.Rex frowns.  Arch Angel chuckles.

Arch Angel:  Jonny brought back Jarvis, and like Paul went on and on and on about in his podcast?  That he’s here to preach the word of “the Defiler”.  Jonny’s first “apostle” if you will. 

T.Rex: yeah guess we’re part of the “corrupted moral majority”?  We don’t GET IT. 

Purple Haze: Boys, I’m more than okay being part of that crowd, if it means I ain’t gotta listen to Jarvis.  I do my church.  I say my prayers and shit…

Arch Angel and T.Rex both giggle at this contradictory sentence.

Purple Haze:  But “Jonny Johnson never praises himself”? 

Arch Angel:  Yes.  When I think humble, I think of the Defiler.  Everything I’ve seen.  Everything we’ve heard.  Jonny has NEVER been self serving.  NEVER self aggrandizing. -

T.Rex:  Big word, Chris.

Arch Angel:  I’ve been known to read a book or two. 

T.Rex:  Show off.

Arch Angel:  Can I continue?

T.Rex throws his arms out “giving” Arch Angel the floor.

Arch Angel:  The thing is for all the fellating Jarvis did of Jonny-

T.Rex:  Dude I don’t think those religious types condone that kind of thing…


T.Rex throws his hands up innocently.

T.Rex:  Sorry.

Arch Angel:  For all the pro-Jonny Propaganda we stomached?  He kept saying that Jonny is for the good of SHOOT.  Well… if he was for the good of SHOOT it wouldn’t have taken US goading him into a match.  Instead of doing whatever HIS version of “fighting” for the SHOOT Project is, he’d literally be fighting… Cuz there isn’t a dude in this INDUSTRY who’s done it as long and as hard and as WELL as Jonny Johnson who is a hundred percent.  So when I see the painful 1997 dial up download of a picture file progress that his “bum wrist” makes?  I call bullshit.  And when he brings out his own personal Flava Flav who replaced his clock with a cross?   Well then…  Its fucking time to BRING DA NOISE. 

T.Rex applauds this.  Purple Haze just looks confused.

T.Rex:  Its a Public Enemy reference, Purp. 

Arch Angel:  Don’t forget the Anthrax flavor too.  That remix…  awesome. 

This doesn’t help the older man. His two trainees may as well be speaking Russian. T.Rex rolls his eyes.

T.Rex:  Its a rap group.  Its also a reference that might be lost on the SHOOT-iverse for wholly different reasons.   

Arch Angel:  Wait… its too young for him.

T.Rex:  Clealry.

Arch Angel: And too OLD for SHOOT?

T.Rex:  Eh… Possibly.  I mean, how fuggin’  sad is it that Flava Flav is better known for shitty reality shows than being part of P.E.? 

Arch Angel: Yeah. And people might actually FORGET “Flavor of Love”.    And you know what else got to me with Jarvis? 

T.Rex:  His general Jarvis-ness? 

Arch Angel:  Yeah… I mean outside feeling like he has a shrine to Sean Hannity somewhere in his basement?  Dude has a SHIT ton to say about what people want.  What WE want.  That people want to be pat on the back and paid.  So if he’s gonna sit there and say WHAT SHOOT wants… What the people want?  What gives him the right? 

T.Rex:  His divinity?  … he says dripping with sarcasm.

Arch Angel chuckles.

Arch Angel:  I mean… JESUS…tap-dancing… CHRIST. - Blaphemy intended.  Fuck you and the high horse you road in on.  I have literally… zero experience with Paul Jarvis, but in fifteen excruciating minutes?  I want nothing more than to punch him.  Hard.  Repeatedly.  He can consider it my own personal “pat on the back”… and then you know what SHOOT’s gonna do? 

T.Rex:  Pay us?

Arch Angel:  Fucking pay us. 

T.Rex: And when we’re done with the clobberin’, and we’ve excised any demons we have… and you guys can say you’ve stepped back into a ring?   We can sit down and talk about making a donation to Project Hero. 

Arch Angel:  Absolutely.  We ARE two charitable guys.  We donate our time…  We did a big thing with Toys for Tots back in December.   

T.Rex: Exactly!  We’ve helped Jay with some of his charity stuff.

Arch Angel:  And at Revolution we’re going to be in  an incredibly giving mood. 

T.Rex:  Just what we’ll be donating is… ass whoopin’s.

T.Rex pauses looks from Arch Angel to Purple Haze and back.

T.Rex:  Was that better?

Arch Angel shrugs. Purple Haze gives the flat hand side to side “So-So” gesture.

Arch Angel:  I mean it wasn’t “Project Zero” bad.

T.Rex:  But? 

Arch Angel:  I dunno.  Ass whoopin’s?  Just sounds hacky. 

T.Rex:  What would have you said?

Arch Angel:  We’re going to be in an incredibly giving mood… And at Revolution we’ll be laying hands and healing sinners. 

He surveys T.Rex and Purple Haze and gets a similar tepid response. Arch Angel shrugs.

Arch Angel:  Like I said.  They can’t all be gems.   

The men share a chuckle.  We go to black.

The Epicenter / The Weigh In {The Saga Continues}
« on: July 29, 2014, 09:36:05 PM »
Inside ANARCHY!’s house of workout.  Its late. The doors long since shut to anyone other than the four men surrounding the scale.  Purple Haze, in a purple Adidas sweatsuit.  Leans on his cane staring at T.Rex, who is in a white skin tight tank top undershirt, and a pair of red and white checkered boxer briefs that appear to be “holding on for dear life”.  Next to him, his tag team partner, Arch Angel is shirtless in a pair of grey Hurley board shorts.  To the left and finishing the quartet, is the only man sitting.  Not looking enthused to be here.  Loco Martinez in a pair of khaki cargo shorts, and a faded black Against Me! concert t-shirt.  T.Rex looks towards Loco.

T.Rex:  Jay, don’t sweat it man… Losses happen.

Arch Angel nods in an attempt to buoy Loco’s mood.

Arch Angel: Yeah man, look… same guy helped take our Tag Team titles.  He’s a helluva talent.   Plus in SHOOT?  Its like… any given Sunday. 

Loco fidgets.  Looks from T.Rex to Arch Angel, and takes a big breath as if he might be ready to say something, but just lets out a sigh. Purple Haze knowing his prize pupil as well as anyone knows Jay Martinez’s “not in the mood” demeanor, and quickly shifts gears.

Purple Haze:  Teddy,  Chris… You’s two have done  a fine job working on y’er slothful fried dough eatin’ beer drinkin’ bags o’ fat-

Arch Angel:  Jesus, Purp…  Why don’t you REALLY lay into us?  Teddy isn't completely in tears yet!

T.Rex:  Yeah, man.  We’ve been working and listening to you?  Do ya really need to get so graphic?

Purple Haze:  Sorry for offendin’ y’er delicate sensibilities.  But you’s two weren’t exactly the picture of physical condition… BEFORE you stepped into that ring a combined sixty pounds overweight. 

Arch Angel:  *coughcough*ItWasMostlyTeddy*cough*

T.Rex:  Fugg off. 

Purple taps his cane on the ground authoritatively.  The boys straighten up reflexively.  Even Loco pops up.  Their reaction almost pavlovian from years of training with their grizzled mentor.

Purple Haze:  Don’t care… AND? DON’T MATTER.  You’s two are  a team.  You fight together.  Win together.  LOSE together.  They don’t announce your weights separate.  Its COMBINED.  So none of that finger pointing matters.  What matters?

He taps his cane on the scale that lays before them.

Purple Haze:  Numbers never lie, boys.  You's two were down to a combined six-thirty.  Y’er listed at a combined six forty-two.  Its fifty days since you lost those tag championships.  FIFTY DAYS since that combined number was six… NINETY. 

T.Rex and Arch Angel cringe at the number said.

T.Rex:  Yeah but c’mon, Purp. Look at us. 

T.Rex brushes at his belly as if they were abs.

T.Rex: Sexy Rexy is BACK.   

This brings a giggle from Loco.  T.Rex casts a dirty look in the Freakshow’s direction.

Purple Haze:  Yeah well… we’ll SEE about that.  I will say? You’re starting to look like your old selves.

Loco Martinez:  Key word is OLD.

Loco deadpans.  A little of the cloud that was hanging over him has seemingly started to lift.  The act of being around his friends having a positive effect.

T.Rex:  Quiet, Freakshow.  Ain’t like you’re some young spring chicken. 

Loco Martinez:  But I AM in the best shape of my life.

T.Rex:  Yeah fat  lot of good THAT did ya-

T.Rex winces.  The words escaping his mouth before his brain could filter them.  Arch Angel silent shakes his head knowing his tag team partner just put his foot in his mouth, and while ball busting was a past time of this group of friends this felt…  They didn’t know… different… too soon?  But they knew Loco Martinez well enough to know the cloud that hung over his head meant now wasn’t the best time.  This demeanor. The moodiness.  This type of funk… This wasn’t JUST the loss.  Something else was gnawing at him, and this was something the boys of ANARCHY! hadn’t seen from Loco since they had worked FOR him so many years ago.  A few moments of awkward silence.  Finally Loco smiles.

Loco Martinez:  Nah.  It didn’t, Teddy.  Laz-ma-taz was the better man at Revolution.  It was the battle I wanted… and who knows… maybe this was the result I NEEDED.  The proverbial kick in the pants.  Its just… yeah… I dunno…

He again fidgets as he gets lost inside his own thoughts.  T.Rex and Arch Angel share a nervous glance.  Purple also casts a worried eye at his pupil.  His eyes narrow as he’s weighing further probing, but decides to let it go… for now.  He turns to Arch Angel and T.Rex.

Purple Haze:   Who’s first?

As if it was second nature each man holds out a fist to settle this question with the age old “Rock Paper Scissors”.  Three fist pumps later Teddy throws a Rock that smashes Arch Angel’s scissors.  Chris sighs and steps forward onto the scale.  Purple leans in.  T.Rex tries to peek over Arch Angel’s shoulder.  Arch Angel swats him away.

Arch Angel:  Stop breathing on me.  Also… why do you smell like bologna? 

T.Rex steps back giving a double middle finger to the back of his friend.  The digital scale beeps.  Purple smiles and writes something down.

Purple Haze:  Three Hundred…

He pauses for dramatic effect.  The boys of ANARCHY! lean forward to the point of T.Rex’s impatience getting the better of him.

T.Rex:  Fer fugg’s sake…  Spit it out GRAMPS!

Purple Haze:  Twelve pounds! 

Arch Angel smiles with some reserve.  Sixteen pounds lighter than his return weight.  Only two pounds off his listed weight.  T.Rex is slightly more animated.

T.Rex:  FUGGIN’ A. RIGHT!  Arch Angel the lean mean fightin’ machine! 

Arch Angel:  Easy Teddy.  I’m not there yet. 

T.Rex:  But we’re getting closer!

Arch Angel takes an over excited high five from T.Rex, and steps off the scale.  T.Rex takes a deep breath and steps on the scale. Purple leans forward, and unbeknownst to T.Rex, Arch Angel deftly puts his foot on the back of the scale and leans into it.  Scale beeps. Arch Angel slides back.

Purple Haze:  Three hundred… 

The pause is cut short by T.Rex’s growl.

Purple Haze:  Eighty pounds.

T.Rex:  BULLSHIT!   I can SEE I’ve lost weight.  This FUGGIN’ scale! 

He steps off, and looks like he is going to wind up and stomp the unholy HELL out of it, when Arch Angel starts laughing.  Purple then joins in.  Loco stays distracted in the background as T.Rex looks confused.

Arch Angel:  Sorry dude.  My foot must’ve stayed on the scale!

T.Rex growls with a smile.

T.Rex:  Fuggin’ DICK!

Purple resets the scale.  T.Rex steps back on.  Takes a quick look over his shoulder making sure he isn’t victim to the same prank.  Arch Angel throws his hands up innocently.  Few moments later the beep of destiny.

Purple Haze:  Three Hundred…  Forty pounds! 

T.Rex:  NICE! 

Another high five as the two are pleased with themselves.  Purple quickly squashes their joy  parade.

Purple Haze:  Six Hundred and fifty two pounds.   Not too shabby.  But STILL not quite down to your fighting weights.

T.Rex:  Yeah but we ain’t got no matches.  By the next time we grace a SHOOT ring? 

Purple Haze:  And when’s THAT gonna be? 

A few moments of pondering.  A huge smile from  T.Rex.

T.Rex:  Don’t worry…  We’ll come up with something.  Right Jay?

Loco still lost in his own mind looks up.

Loco Martinez:  What?  Sure, man!  Congrats on the weight loss.  You guys are looking good… Hey.  I gotta get going.  I’ll catch ya later.

Loco pops up and leaves.  T.Rex looks to Arch Angel and Purple Haze.

T.Rex:  What the hell?!

**modified cuz of Purple's math**

General Discussion / So if you can help, its needed.
« on: July 22, 2014, 09:46:52 PM »
A swimmer for my alma mater, West Chester University of PA is from the Ukraine, and his parents recently fled the war torn country.  They're attempting to get on their feet and get political asylum here in the states.  Here was a local news story on him:


Shark is a great dude.  Always friendly, huge UFC fan. 

The Epicenter / A Chance Encounter {A Stellar/Loco Story}
« on: July 21, 2014, 08:45:16 PM »
A little reminder of where we were in Loco's Promotional Vehicle when a chance encounter began.

Loco:  NO shit....  OH SHIT!

Doing a poor job of breaking means he drives hard into the cement parking spot barrier.  Not hard enough to do anything other than cosmetic damage to the front bumper, but definitely hard enough for the patrons inside to turn and take a look.  Including the cause of Loco's distraction,  Rocky Stellar.  Loco smiles sheepishly at the sudden attention.  He waves at his long time friend, as he puts the car in park. Stellar looks over, sees the wave, doesn’t really respond and just dives back into his food. We head inside.

Waitress:  You okay, sir?

Loco:  Yeah, we're fine.  Sounds worse than it is.

He looks Stellar's direction.

Loco:  Stellar!

Rocky doesn’t look up, just continues staring at his food. But, Loco b-lines to the booth and plops down.

Loco:  How's it going, dude?  I mean... hell... You're BACK?!

Stellar slowly nods his head as he pushes some eggs around on a plate. Loco clearly looks disturbed by the weirdness of the whole thing.

Loco: Dude…

Stellar finally looks up and gives a semi-smile.

Stellar: How's it going?

Loco crinkles an eyebrow, not sure what to make of the situation. Thankfully, a waitress comes along and breaks the tension.

Waitress: Hello, is there something I can get you.

Loco:  Can I get three scrambled eggs, two pancakes, sausage, and a side of hashbrowns… and make sure he gets whatever he wants.

Loco points at the camera.  She turns to the camera man.

Cameraman::  I'll just get the same thing he got, and some orange juice.

The Waitress writes it down and turns and leaves.

Loco: So... (long pause)… what's up?

Stellar looks around the restaurant as he tosses his fork down on the plate and takes a drink of water.

Stellar: Just, you know… eating. What about you.

Loco nods and stares at his long time friend for a minute, not sure what to make of it.

Loco: All right, let’s hear it.

Stellar: Hear what?

Loco: Why are you acting weird?

Stellar shakes his head.

Loco: Okay. We'll do this question by question then…  Lets start from the top… why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?

Stellar takes a deep breath.

Stellar: Couple of reasons… for one, you have a lot going on and didn’t need me to mess that up. But, more importantly, I’m not sure how you’d respond to it.

Loco looks like he’s about to protest, but Stellar shakes his head and cuts him off.

Stellar: Dude, for YEARS, you have made a huge issue out of my age. And, while I know you’re kidding (he points at him) most of the time, I also know there’s a twinge of truth in there. You look at me like I’m a dinosaur now… like I should be put out to pasture. You look like the ICON is extinct. So, I KNOW how you’d react if I called you up and said “Hey, I’m getting back in the ring…”

Loco nods his head, understanding. But, there is a little bit of reasoning in there too.

Loco: Yea, but Rock, come on. It’s for good reason. How many concussions can one man take? They’ve done studies, and have doctors and what not. Hell, that wrestler from Harvard is making a living at it. Dude, at some point, the chair shots add up...

Stellar smirks.

Loco: I’m being serious, dude. I’m not doing it to be an asshole. You’re 25 years in… and how many times have you had your bell rung?

Stellar nods.

Loco: At what point, is enough enough?

Stellar takes a quick drink off his coffee, then sets it back down.

Stellar: And… this is why I didn’t say anything.

Loco laughs.

Loco: I don't mean to be a negative nelly, dude.  I'm just worried.  You know as well as I do that this industry is dangerous, and this place can be more dangerous than most! 

Loco sighs.  Stellar nods, just staring straight ahead at his closest friend.

Loco: I’m just worried about you and the kid.

Stellar looks over at him. The “kid” being his son… a twinge of pain creeps across his face.

Stellar: And… why do you think I’m here?

Loco cocks his head to the side, confused.

Loco: What does that mean?

Stellar keeps his mouth shut and stares across the table at his longtime friend.  The waitress returns with Loco and the Cameraman's food.

Loco: What does Jake have to do with anything?

Stellar looks out the window, clearly not wanting to talk. But Loco presses on…

Loco: Come on, bro? This is Loco here – we’ve been friends, forever.

Stellar nods, and clearly you can see that it’s time to unload.

Stellar: Times have been tough Loco. There have been a couple of bad investments in the past couple of years and the nest egg – the college tuition – well, it’s not as big as it once was.

Loco looks at him a bit shocked.

Loco: How bad is it? You going to lose the house? ARE YOU GOING TO LOSE MY POOL?!?!

Stellar shakes his head.

Stellar: No, no… that’s all paid off. But I lost my ass on your petting zoo in 2011, then my attempt to start my restaurant in Chicago in 2012 was a disaster. Then, that accountant I had in for three years swindled me when I wasn’t paying attention.

Loco nods his head in shock.

Stellar: So, we aren’t destitute, but let’s just say that I’m not doing as well as I once was.

Loco nods his head, grim.

Stellar: So, about six months ago, I decided I needed to go back out and get a job. I filled out some applications and had some interviews. But I didn’t land anything.

Stellar shrugs.

Stellar: I can’t blame them really. I mean, I walked out of high school with a degree in 1987, and haven’t done anything but wrestle since.

Loco shakes his head the situation coming more and more into focus. 

Stellar: Someone tried to get me to join on for their wrestling school about three months ago, but I didn’t like what the guy was doing to the kids training there. He wanted these 18 year old kids to pay tuition and wages and what not back to the school, all so this Indy guy could get rich. He was praying on the dreams and hopes of these young guys, so I walked out…

Loco: Good for you…

Stellar nods, still down.

Stellar: Yea – except I wound up wrestling a couple of shows for him, just so I could have some money in my pocket. It was sad.

Loco nods.

Stellar: Look, I didn’t marry the boss’ daughter, so I’m not a CEO. Also, I never acted, so I can’t be a movie star. Bottom line, Loc… life is rough on wrestlers when the chair shots stop.

Loco: I understand that, man.  But, rather than getting in the ring, why not do something more long term and less dangerous?  I’m sure you could get on as a commentator or referee or something.

Stellar shakes his head.

Stellar: You know damn well the pay isn’t what it used to be back in the 90s, or even the early 2000s. And, I’m not the type of guy to wear a suit when everyone else is wearing wrestling gear. I always said, if I come back, then I come back in full capacity.

Loco: There are other jobs out there too…

Stellar: Really? What.. a machine shop? An auto worker? Get a job in a plant?

He shakes his head.

Stellar: Bottom line - I’m a wrestler dude… that’s all I know.

Loco nods.  While he doesn't like it he totally gets it.

Stellar: So, when the MotM invite came my way, I jumped on it. It was a pay day… and it was better than wrestling with those schmucks for $50 bucks.

Loco: Did Jason offer you a contract?

Stellar shook his head.

Stellar: Not yet… it’s not his fault. Again, I’m old. I wouldn’t pay me anything above minimum. He wants me to wrestle a couple more times and see if I can still go before he decides what to do.

Loco nods.

Stellar: Bottom line, everything you said about concussions is very real. I know the risks…. I know all of it. But, at the same time, I have nowhere else to turn. You know me – I’ve never been the type of guy to take a hand out from anyone, and I’m not going to start now. But, at the same time, I still have responsibilities – I still have my son. I want him to be able to go to college so he doesn’t grow up to be like his old man – punch drunk and broke at 44. So, I either wrestle here – in SHOOT – or I go back to the bingo hall in northern Illinois…. Getting paid $50 so one of their local talents can pin the “great and powerful Rocky Stellar.”

Loco: Jesus…  Well dude you know if you need anything?  Anything I can do to help?  You can ask me… *Loco pauses*  I'm not thrilled with it, because I want you to grow old… WITH ME. 

Loco smiles cheesily and Stellar chuckles.

Loco:  But dude seriously.  While you're here?  Need to crash at my place?  Mi casa es SU casa.  Also?  My mom still has a crush on you…  I mean… if you're looking for a Sugar Mama.  … You could be the dad that walked out on us!  Jake can be the brother I always wanted!

For the first time a little of the cloud that has hung over this conversation lifts as Stellar looks up and laughs heavily shaking his head.

Stellar: I’m not going to take your money, bro… but I will take your couch. But, two rules: One - if Jason offers up a contract… then I’m out and get my own spot. Two – You let me pitch in around the house on rent and what not.

Loco nods his head again.

Loco: Deal.

Stellar nods his head.

Stellar: All right, then I’m going to bounce over to my shit hole hotel and wrestle my stuff away from the rats.

Stellar stands and reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet, but Loco throws up his hands…

Loco: Nah, man, I got this one…


We're in the parking lot of Las Vegas Municipal Pool, the aquatic training grounds of SHOOT's 2013 Master of the Mat.  The sun hangs low in the east as the early morning work out wraps up.  A few of Loco's teammates start emerging.  Some in business attire.  Some in casino uniforms.  Some are dressed casually.  Finally Loco strolls out.  Hair still damp, matted, and messy.  A yellow towel over his shoulder.  He wears a plain black t-shirt, and light grey athletic shorts.  He smiles and says good bye to the small group he's with as they exits the natatorium.  He heads towards the camera a bit of a surprised look on his face.

Loco Martinez:  You're early!

Cameraman:  Yeah.  I uh... was late for my last gig, and uh, the subject was none too pleased. 

Loco laughs knowingly.

Loco Martinez:  Yeah, I've heard... hell at some point in time I'm sure I was the guy dishing out some punishment to some poor camera dude.  Let me say for all us delicate and cranky wrestlers... we're sorry.  At times the promotional vehicles tend to grate on us.  We know it has to be done, but you get into fight week?  You're training and doing whatever other work you need to do?  Sometimes we resent the obligation.  It ain't right, but just what it is... 

He trails off and then something dawns on him.

Loco Martinez:  Hey, how about I make it up to you? 

Cameraman:  Uhh...

Loco Martinez:  A little olive branch for every pissy wrestler you've had to deal with… yours truly included!  I'll buy you some breakfast!

Cameraman:  I'm not sure I can do that while filming.

Loco Martinez:  C'mon.  We'll figure it out. There's this diner near by.  Great place I've been going to for years.  Plus I really need something.  They kicked our asses today in the pool.  We'll get this whole thing wrapped up.  AND get some pancakes?  That's the ole, "Win-Win", if you ask me.

The silence of a shrug from the camera man and we're quickly in Loco's yellow CR-V and driving down the road.  The sun slowly painting its way across the desert.  We drive in silence for a few minutes before wee see the Diner.

Loco Martinez:  They have great hash browns.

He pulls in, and gets distracted by something in the diner.

Loco Martinez:  NO shit....  OH SHIT!

Doing a poor job of braking means he drives hard into the cement parking spot barrier.  Not hard enough to do anything other than cosmetic damage to the front bumper, but definitely hard enough for the patrons inside to turn and take a look.  Including the cause of Loco's distraction,  Rocky Stellar.  Loco smiles sheepishly at the sudden attention.  He waves at his long time friend, as he puts the car in park.  We head inside.

Waitress:  You okay, sir?

Loco Martinez:  Yeah, we're fine.  Sounds worse than it is. 

He looks Stellar's direction.

Loco Martinez:  Stellar!

Rocky smiles, but doesn't seem to meet Loco's enthusiasm.  Loco b-lines to the booth and plops down.

Loco Martinez:  How's it going, dude?  I mean... hell... You're BACK?!

We fade out as the two long time friends and tag team partners start to talk.  Perhaps to be saved for a later date *nudge nudge... wink wink*.  But with the power of editing we are brought right back up into that scene.  Only now mostly eaten plates of food sit in front of Loco, Rocky, and the camera man.  Stellar goes to pull out his wallet and Loco throws up his hands.

Loco Martinez:  Nah, man.  I got this one! 

The shocked look crossing Stellar's face tells us this is not a common occurrence.  Loco chuckles.

Loco Martinez:  Consider it a welcome back gift. 

Rocky Stellar:  Thanks Freakshow.  Good luck with Lazarus this week.

Stellar extends a hand for a shake, but Loco hops out of the booth and throws his arms around his friend.

Loco Martinez:  No handshakes.  Friends… Gotta… HUG!

Stellar rolls his eyes as he's swallowed up by Loco's embrace.  After a few seconds Stellar squirms himself free.

Rocky Stellar:  I'll see you around, Jay.

Loco Martinez:  By Rock.  I'll tell Ma' you said hi!

Stellar laughs and just like that he's off, and Loco slides back into the booth.

Loco Martinez:  Crazy we ran into him here.  Crazy he's back in SHOOT.  CRAZY he didn't even like text me to let me know.  See, Corey?  Sometimes even the closest of friends some times slip into and out of each other's lives.  You get busy.  And there are few… maybe NO one I've met in this business who I'm closer to.  Hell his kid calls me "Uncle".  We've lived together.  We've nearly killed each other.  Just the days of our lives as professional wrestlers. 

He takes a bite of eggs and hash browns.  Sips at an orange juice.

Loco Martinez:  You get that though, right?  I mean, you're busier than most.  Acting.  Wrestling.  Side businesses.  You have had to juggle a lot professionally, and that's even before having to deal with the day to day drama that can pop up for anyone of us.  But, yes Core, I am sorry about not coming to LV-138.  I could sit here and come up with excuses like "I'm not a club guy", or "Fancy restaurant guy", I don't exactly scream "LAS VEGAS NIGHT LIFE!"  I could lean on, "I didn't even know there was an invitation on the table".  Or, "hell I barely been to Cripp's bar".   I could say "hey YOU didn't come to my birthday at the water park!"

He pauses and shrugs.

Loco Martinez:  But it is what it is.  Like I said and you said.  We aren't that close.  Doesn't mean we CAN'T get close, and while I feel bad for anyone who gets hurt doing what we're doing?  Ends up in a hospital?  Doesn't mean I visit them all in the hospital.  I'd LOVE to be that generous with my time.  I strive to be that giving a person.  To  hopefully make any person's day… friend, or foe, just a little better.  Hopefully Revolution I can do that for you… Thankfully for ME?  You can do that for me too.

He pauses and takes a sip of water.

Loco Martinez:  I can see you're going through some stuff, it seems… okay you implied, you outright said you need an outlet?  Fewer professions were more fine tuned for the release of stress, frustration, and anger.  Ours is a physically violent medium where one can do everything in their physical capabilities to unleash those emotions, feelings, and anxieties in a  symphony of aggression.  Whatever it is you're going through, and I assure I'm not gonna pry.  As a Holmes fan I might deduce, and sure I'm privy to all the gossipy whisperings just about every work environment falls prey to, but as a work acquaintance and an opponent?  It doesn't matter, and its none of my business.  What IS my business is when whatever your situation IS ends up channeling into aggression against ME.  Which is both good and bad. 

Bad?  Well I guess the loss would be "bad", but if I'd happen to lose to you there'd be no shame in that.  Disappointment, sure, but losing to a man your caliber is nothing to hang your head over.  It might slow my momentum towards my ultimate goal of hoisting the World Championship above my head, but that could be regained.  No! The REAL bad is if your lust to be violent?  To let loose? If whatever frustrations you want to take out on ME end up costing me my health?  If I end up hurt, hospitalized... 

He shrugs and lets that hang over the proceedings for a while, he sighs clearly his past and future on his mind.  Shrugs…

Loco Martinez:  But? That's the life of wrestler.  Taking your career and life into each contest.  One misstep and your opponent can not just win the match, but can end your career, or worse.

He tries to shake off the dark cloud he just talked over himself. Maiming and injury is no way to enjoy a breakfast.  He shudders attempting to literally shake it off.

Loco Martinez:  NOW!  The Good of this situation?  I want that challenge.  I don't want you coming in some zombi-fied stupor.  Too stressed to function.  Too mind-fucked to be an effective opponent.  There's no challenge in that.  No FUN.  I want a fight.  I want a fight where I can shut my mind off and just BATTLE.  To do what I do best.  To show the SHOOTiverse why it is I call myself the "GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH".  Which is why I'm thankful YOU are MY opponent.  Because?  I don't have any worries about our friendship.  I don't have any added pressures where I fret the future of our friendship, because really?  There isn't much there.  Some might even quantify it as "nothing".  A future of "Loco + Corey BBF's 4eva" is not off the table and our impending battle won't impact that future.  See?  That's the beauty of this match for me.  First and foremost you, Corey Lazarus, Platinum Prince, Master Thespian, and Tag Team Champion, are my competition.  A combatant.  If its my previous match?  My Master of the Mat Match?  Hell just coming here to grab a bite?  I'll have no additional worries that might cross my mind if your name was Maya, Crippler, or Stellar!   My lone worry.  My ONLY goal at Revolution is the relationship between your shoulders and the mat.  The mat… its a "Three Pump Chump", and dammit that's one relationship that'll have you doing a walk of shame up the ramp.

Cheshire Cat grin parts his lips.  His eyes almost unnervingly intense.

Loco Martinez:  All of this is why this match is wonderful.  I can let loose too.  No stress.  No worries.  Just me in there with one of SHOOT's best.  Testing me.  Challenging me.  Beating the ever loving piss out of me.  Getting to beat the ever loving piss beat out of him!  You want a fight?  Shit, you NEED a fight?   

Well then?  *In a piss poor Doc Holiday*  I'LL BE YOUR HUCKLEBERRY.

He giggles at the badness.

Loco Martinez:  You and me, might not have much of a relationship, but dammit if we're not the perfect dance partners at Revolution.  I'll try not to step on your toes… I just won't make promises for any other body parts.

He gives a cocky wink. 


The Epicenter / The Post Match. The Pre Match. {i for Lazarus}
« on: July 14, 2014, 07:50:03 PM »
Loco Martinez is sitting on a locker room bench backstage after defeating Lunatikk Crippler.  He towels sweat from his brow and sips from a bottled water as on of SHOOT’s physicians gives him a post match “once over”.  He is paying extra attention to Loco’s surgically repaired right ankle.  He rolls it, flexes it, and runs his fingers along the bones to analyze.  Loco winces a few times, but seeing as this ankle hasn’t been a 100% since a bit of golf cart hi jinx with Rocky Stellar got it broken… actually it was SHATTERED. 

Loco Martinez:  I’m tellin’ ya doc.  Feels good. 

Doctor:  GOOD?!

Loco smiles and shrugs sheepishly.

Loco Martinez:   As good as it CAN feel. 

The Doctor gets up and takes off his rubber gloves.

Doctor:  Well the range of motion is decent… for you.  It held up fine in there tonight.  At least its not getting more arthritic. 

Loco chuckles at the kind of positive diagnosis.

Loco Martinez:  That’s what I like to hear.  I gots me a title match and the only cane the SHOOT-iverse would be cool seeing me rock is of the Singapore variety.

The doctor chuckles and extends a hand for a handshake. 

Doctor:  Well just keep icing it, and doing the exercises we gave you.    The pool work is a definite help, and don’t go crazy with the Advil.

Loco takes his hand and shakes it.

Loco Martinez:  Done, Done, and done.  Thanks Doc.  I’ll see you after the next one.

The doctor smiles and nods. Loco leans back against the wall.  He lets his eyes close for a minute.  Wondering if the next time he “Sees the doc” will be after his title match at Master of the Mat with Maya.  Wondering if the doctor will nursing a devastated or elated Loco Martinez.  Wondering… Wondering… Wondering…  abruptly ended by a knock at the door.  Loco’s eyes snap open.

Loco Martinez:  Yeah?

Into Loco’s dressing room steps Azrael Goeren.  Loco gives a smile and nod at SHOOT’s executive Vice President.  He takes a double take when he notices Goeren is actually in his ring gear.

Azrael Goeren:  Mein… AMIGO!  Herr Martinez.  Que Pasa?

Loco chuckles and shakes his head at Goeren’s attempt to connect “linguistically”.

Loco Martinez:  I’m fine Az.  How bout yourself?  You got a match?  You one of the mysterious Enigma’s entering this year’s Master of the Mat?

Azrael Goeren:  Oh, nein.  Nein.  Nein.  No Master of the Mat for this guy.  I do have a match, though.  Which is PART of why I’m here.

Loco’s eyes narrow.  Knowing Goeren’s past.  And that tone, his “spider sense” is tingling.

Loco Martinez:  Oooooo….Kay?  And this has something to do with ME?

Azrael Goeren:  Sure.  First, we booked you for a match NEXT Revolution.

Loco smiles and nods.

Loco Martinez:  Awesome.  Against who?

Azrael Goeren: Well.  We figured you faired so well against one half of the SHOOT Project Tag Team Champions tonight?  We’d let you show your stuff against the OTHER Half.

Loco smiles and nods.

Loco Martinez: So Laz it is.  Good.  Glad I’ll get back in the ring at least one more time before Master of the Mat.

Azrael Goeren:  True.  A knife needs to be sharp when going into battle.  Which is why I’m so nervous about MY match tonight.

Loco Martinez:  Yeah, dude?  Who are you fighting tonight.

He smiles evilly.  A bit of the Azrael Goeren that loved to terrorize SHOOT seeps out.

Azrael Goeren:  Maya.

Loco furrows his brow, and nods.

Loco Martinez:  That’s a big match and a tough challenge for you.  Good luck, dude man.

Loco thinks he’s done.  He’s not and Goeren’s lips part in an evil smile.

Azrael Goeren: Oh.  No.  Its not JUST me against Maya.  I’ll have miene freunde with me.

Loco Martinez:  You’ll have a friend?

Azrael Goeren:  Friends. 

Loco Martinez:  And who’s fighting with Maya.

Goeren shakes his head “no”.  Loco’s eyes go wide.

Loco Martinez:  So Maya is in a HANDICAPPED match tonight?  WHY?!   And who put him in it?

Azrael Goeren:  So many questions, sadly I don’t have the answers and I DO have to rush out.  Gotta get prepared and all.  The other thing that YOU need to know about that match?

Loco looking annoyed growls a “what?”

Azrael Goeren:  You are BANNED from ringside. 

Loco Martinez:  Are you fucking KIDDING me?

Goeren throws his hands up feigning his innocence.

Azrael Goeren:  Don’t SHOOT the messenger.  I guess people just wanted to see a… *He giggles evilly*   fair fight!

Goeren turns on his heel and quickly leaves an irate Loco Martinez in his wake.   We go unfocused and fuzzy.  Then to black.  We fade back in and its a few days later.  Loco Martinez is in a black t-shirt and loose fitting orange and silver board shorts.  Yellow Oakleys cover his eyes.  He sits outside on the patio of a sports bar.  A half eaten burger and fries sit in front of him with an empty bottle of Corona.

Loco Martinez:  So I get told I have a match this week, which is great news.  Another challenge.  Another test.  Another champion.  Not quite the friends Crippler and I are, but damn sure every bit the talented competitor and dangerous man.  From what I hear he’s not too shabby a thespian, either. 

He pauses as a waitress walks by and brings another bottle.  She sets it down.  He picks it up and he takes a large gulp.

Loco Martinez:  Thanks.  Its strange to start out ANOTHER SHOOT Project Promotional vehicle where I congratulate my opponent on beating two of my closest friends for those tag team championships, but?

Loco shrugs.

Loco Martinez:  All in a day’s work.  You and Crippler were the better men, and hopefully my boys are continuing to… literally… work their asses off and get a rematch for those championships.  But let me extend a Congrats, Corey on beating ANARCHY! and being a two time tag team champion.  Hell congrats on setting SHOOT on FIRE since we reopened.  Snagged the Iron Fist title.  Won the Tag Team Titles.  We’ve only been open a couple months and it could be said you’ve already had a fabulous YEAR.  Shit.  CAREER.  There are plenty of Soldiers who’d be envious of your resume here… this one included.  That’s why I’m looking forward to this match.  The challenge.  You’re not only one of SHOOT’s finest, but you’ve also been on a pretty damn hot streak.  Our matchup presents a helluva challenge indeed.  Plus there isn’t any… shall we say… potential relationship drama with us.  When it comes to our match at Revolution I think its pretty straight forward.  I beat you up.  You beat me up. 

He pauses and takes another sip.

Loco Martinez:  That’s the biggest difference between our match… my last match and my Master of the Mat match.   We’re not particularly close.  Don’t get me wrong.  We COULD be friends… some day.  Hell maybe this meeting.  This match.  These promos will be the first step down the road to a beautiful and long lasting friendship. 

He smiles genuinely.

Loco Martinez:  Stranger things have happened.  Seeing as what transpired at Revolution with Maya and Ike? Or that my best good friend Rocky Stellar returned to a SHOOT ring and surprised everyone, INCLUDING me?!  I feel more comfortable than most times uttering that phrase. 

A small chuckle.  Some relief in it knowing that without Isaac Entragian Maya would have faced extreme physical peril.

Loco Martinez:  But like last week, Corey?  I see this week’s test as another great opportunity to sharpen my abilities, but without any issues where in that ring I could possibly be worried about a dear friend.  That I might hold back.  That YOU Can hopefully be a bridge for me to get to where I want to get.  A bridge over troubled waters…

He flashes that Cheshire Cat grin.

Loco Martinez:  If you will.  Because at Revolution I can “let it all hang out”.  And I know because of my own personal history that the balancing act between absolute devotion to being SHOOT’s next World Heavyweight Champion and OBSESSION is a line I can comfortably approach with you.  I can test myself.  My body, and just as importantly my mind.  I can get in that ring with you and KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll do everything in your power to put me down at Revolution.

A smirk.

Loco Martinez:  Which is good.  To be put in that competitive mind state.  To know that and to know that this match can be another step in making sure I’m as ready as I can be…

Loco pauses.  Brow furrows and he frowns.

Loco Martinez:  I don’t know if its coming across as if I’m overlooking this match up?  I understand the weight of things for Revolution, but knowing on what’s on my horizon and everything going on since SHOOT reopened, it’s really impossible to sit and say “I’m only focused on Corey Lazarus”.  That’s a lie.  People LOVE to say that shit.  Athletes especially love the “one game at a time” cliche.  I never buy it.  Especially during the lead in.  I’m an athlete.  I’m training my body to be an instrument of impressive and unmerciful destruction.  EVERY fight we have tends to be about the NEXT fight.  Corey Lazarus whips my ass?  Maybe you end up a step closer to a title shot.  Maybe you ride that momentum and he and Crippler are the most dominant tag team to ever step foot in the SHOOT Project? 

Me keeping my mind on what this match can mean for ME long term isn’t me overlooking Corey Lazarus.  I know how good Corey Lazarus is.  I can ask my good friend, his tag team partner.  I can ask my good friends… the tag team he helped defeat.  I can see all the championships he’s won.  I can watch video of matches.  Hell I can even…

He deadpans.

Loco Martinez:  Let Corey Lazarus tell me how good Corey Lazarus is. 

Loco chuckles and takes the final sip from his bottle.

Loco Martinez:  But I can’t wait to step into that ring in front of the SHOOTiverse and find out for myself.  To test myself against a helluva Soldier.  To battle.  To finish off my last promotional vehicle I told Crippler, “Thank you for being a friend”.  For this week, Corey?

Thank YOU for being an opponent. 

He stares intensely for a few moments before Loco winks, smiles, and turns back to his table to finish his meal. 


Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
1:15pm on a Sunday
June 29th 2014

Gabriella Martinez sits on her worn couch leaning forward as if she could enter the 50 inch flat screen.  That screen is the brilliant green of a Brazilian Soccer stadium.  On it men in bright orange and men in green move around the pitch.  Jay Martinez’s mother flinches and leans hoping her motions can impact play. Mexico is up one nil, but the Orange have come roaring back making Ms. Martinez’s nerves as frayed as the vintage jersey she sports.

She sits and watches the game her father introduced her to as a child growing up Pachuca.  The jersey she wears was his.  Its old.  Frayed.  Countless times its been sewed.  Old enough it needs to be hand washed with care.  The rosary she has wrapped around her right hand was her mothers.  Her fingers dance over the beads as she mutters through a series of “Hail Mary’s”.  A not all that unique convergence of Sport and Religion.  Her hopes that her diety can help her team.

Gabriella Martinez:  Dios te salve, Maria.
Llena eres de gracia:
El Señor es contigo.
Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres.
Y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre-

She gasps.  A Dutch shot screams towards the goal.  Memo Ochoa makes a huge save.  She squeezes the rosary just a little tighter.

Gabriella Martinez:  …Jesús.
Santa María, Madre de Dios,
ruega por nosotros pecadores,
ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte.

She takes a deep breath and lets out slowly trying to calm her nerves.  So when there is a sudden knock at the door she nearly jumps out of her skin.  She leans forward looking to see if she can see who it is.  She won’t be answering the door for just anyone, but for THIS person she leaps from her seat and the game becomes a quick, but not too distant second to man at the door.

Gabriella Martinez:  HIJO! 

She throws the door open and before Loco Martinez can even say “HI MA” her arms are thrown around his neck and plants a huge wet kiss on his cheek.  Its been a few months since Loco had last been home, but with her reaction you’d think it had been decades.  She drags her son back to the couch.

Gabriella Martinez:  What are you doing here?!   The Game is on!

Loco Martinez:  I know, Mom.  I was supposed to get here before kickoff, but my flight got delayed. 

Gabriella Martinez:  We’re WINNING!

Loco Martinez:  I see that.  They’ve been looking good.  Ochoa has been a brick wall.

Gabriella Martinez:  I still think they should play Chicharito more.

Loco smiles knowingly.  His mother’s favorite player, so much so she has bought Loco numerous jerseys.  One of which he’s wearing right now.  Javier Hernandez’s #14 Manchester United jersey.

Gabriella Martinez:  So why are you here?

Loco Martinez:  I wanted to come see you.  Hopefully to watch the game… sucks i missed a bunch of it.   

Gabriella Martinez:  Don’t you wrestle this week?

Loco Martinez:  I do.  I have a match against Crippler, but I have a whole week to worry about that.  Not often we get to sit and watch Mexico in the round of sixteen! 

Loco decided to fly out because of this game.  In his current nostalgic mind state, it had dawned on him that he didn’t know how many opportunities he and his mom would have like this.  So he moved a training session with Purple Haze up to Saturday, with another one on Monday, and decided to fly east.  Seems like he didn’t want to let this opportunity slip through his fingers.  They sit down together.  Loco puts his left arm around his mother.  She senses something in her son.

Gabriella Martinez:  What is it hijo?

Loco Martinez:  What?  Nothing, Ma.  Just worried about El Tri.  Hoping they can pull of the win.

She pulls away not believing him.  She gives him a look only a mother would give. YOU know the look.

Gabriella Martinez:  Jay?

Loco Martinez:  Just been thinking.

Gabriella Martinez:  About?

Loco Martinez:  Everything… I don’t know.  Since SHOOT’s reopened I’ve been really nostalgic.  Been thinking about…

His mom sees the worry on his face and she gives him a squeeze.

Gabriella Martinez:  You’re worried about… what?  Getting hurt? 

Loco Martinez:  Nah. Its not like that.  Just after all this time.  All the years and blood sweat and tears.  Here I am, and SHOOT was closed and I was done.  NOW?!  I have an opportunity… A fight.  Something I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember.

Gabriella Martinez:  And THAT is why you’re worried?

She looks confused.

Loco Martinez:  Yes… no.  Its not the match or the title shot.  Its just… its Maya.

She pauses.  They watch the game for a few moments in silence.

Gabriella Martinez:  I like Maya.  He was always nice when I’ve hung out with him.

Loco Martinez:  Yeah ma, he’s a great guy.  A good friend.  See… That’s part of the problem.  I know what this means to me, and I know what it takes.  I know what this title can do to people.  What it can mean for relationships.  I know how hard it is to win something like this.  I know what its like to come up short.  I also know what I can be capable of if I become obsessed.

Gabriella Martinez:  You’re worried about what it could make you?

Loco Martinez:  Yeah…  I know I need MORE to defeat Maya.  I know I need to block out the friendship we have, and be able to just see him for the great competitor he is.  You know?  When he beat me in the Primus I as disappointed, but deep down I was happy for him. 

Loco’s voice goes a little cold.

Loco Martinez:  I can’t think that way.  Not this time.  It could be my last chance.

Gabriella Martinez:  I have faith in you.  You and Mr. Rocky have fought and fought, and you’re still amigos. 

Loco Martinez:  Usually when Stellar and I were fighting we weren’t exactly seeing “eye to eye”.

Gabriella Martinez:  I’d have no problem seeing eye to eye with the Stellar One.

She fans herself as the thought of Loco’s long time tag team partner and best-good friend has her hot and bothered.  This succeeds in doing two things. Appalling Loco.

Loco Martinez:  Eww… MA!  Gross.   

And lightening the mood.  They chuckle.  Gabriella grabs Loco’s face and turns it to her and speaks with sincerity.

Gabriella Martinez:  I think you’re a wonderful boy and a wonderful luchador-

Loco Martinez:  Wrestler.

Gabriella Martinez:  What?

Loco Martinez:  I’m a wrestler, ma.  Not a lucha.  It… heh… it doesn’t really matter.

Gabriella Martinez:  Well?  Since you returned, you’ve fought for the people and you’ve fought with honor.  You’ve fought the RIGHT way.  You’ve done yourself proud, Jay.  I believe you’re going to go into that match and battle with all your ability.  And win or lose your fans, and friends, and even your family-

She gives Loco a kiss on the cheek.

Gabriella Martinez:  Will be proud of you. 

Loco Martinez:  Thanks Ma.  I appreciate that. 

But despite that reassurance something in Loco isn’t quite convinced.  There is that nagging feeling that he knows what he is capable of.  He also knows the last time he was in the ring with Maya and the SHOOT Project World Heavyweight Championship on the line he fell short.  And maybe a little motherly reassurance will do Loco Martinez good.  But at the very least the chance to sit and watch a World Cup game with his mom and maybe for a couple hours just be a soccer fan and a son is a welcome distraction before the impending obsession.

The Epicenter / A Challenge. A Champion. A Friend. {i for Loco/Crip}
« on: June 28, 2014, 10:08:03 AM »
Saying the man on the couch is tense?  An understatement.  He's clearly wound up, and I doubt it has much to do with the Belgium/Korea match on his 50 inch flat screen.  He shifts, twitches, fiddles with the remote, checks his phone, sighs, and checks his phone again.  Its a man with a lot on his mind.  A lot on his plate, and is a man who doesn't do well with times like this.  Especially if he feels like he should be doing SOMETHING… anything… 

Revolution 124 saw Loco Martinez be named the Number One Contender for Maya Nakashima's SHOOT Project World Heavyweight Championship.  The current Master of the Mat will get a one on one opportunity at this years Master of the Mat.  A chance to realize a dream.  A chance to stamp his name into the SHOOT Project History books, but since SHOOT reopened he had stepped between the ropes only once.  He had fought once.  One match in more than six months had Loco Martinez antsy.  Throw in the fact that the biggest match in his career is quickly approaching on the horizon?  He's a man who wants challenges, a man who wants to prove himself, a man who recently has seen and felt the sands slipping through the hourglass that is his in ring career, and a man who has never handled inactivity well.  He's an exposed nerve, and all the world class soccer in the world can't distract him enough.

His phone rings and he quickly mutes the game as one of Belgium's players is shown a red card.  Answers.

Loco Martinez:  Hello?  Hey!  How's it going?  Good to hear.  How're the folks?  Oh. That's a shame.  Tell your mom I hope she feels better.   Yeah.  Okay.   That's great.  Awesome news.  Really looking forward to it.  Thanks again.

Loco ends the call, and puts his cell phone down, his lips stretching into a huge Cheshire Cat grin.  He thinks it over for a few minutes and quickly pulls his phone back up.  Goes to work making  a call. 

Loco Martinez:  Purple!  Its Jay.  Yeah.  I'm good man.  How's the training with Teddy and Chris goin?   They getting back to that fighting shape?  Good to hear…  Good to hear.  I was wondering if you wanted to do some double duty?  Nah, I want a few solo sessions.  Yup.    I just got a call and am going one on one with Crippler.  No… Of course not…   Yes.  Of course its a challenge.  I'm not going to sit here and debate you on the "smartness" of taking a match of this caliber this close to Master of the Mat.  Its a challenge.  Its a fight.  You don't sharpen a knife by rubbing it against wet pasta.  Exactly.  Crip' is talented.  Dangerous.  Like my opponent at Master of the Mat he's a champion, and just like my opponent at Master of the Mat?  He's my friend.  This will be two dudemen out there fighting for the sport of it.  So yeah.  I think this is an AMAZING thing… so stop being a negative nelly… *Chuckles* - Yes I know its not in your nature.  There's a cliche about old dogs and new tricks, Purp…  yes. I'm calling you old.  *laughs harder*… yes I AM  dick.  So I'll see you Sunday?   Awesome.  No matter how much Teddy bitches, I think you're  a swell guy.  Late.

He hangs up and we can feel a level of the stress lighten.  Its not gone by any stretch of the imagination… I mean he still has a huge match with Maya Nakashima in the not to distant future and he was just told that at Revolution he'll be stepping into the ring with a man nicknamed "The Whole Fucked Up Show".  A man dangerous enough that if Loco Martinez isn't careful there won't BE  a title match at Master of the Mat.

Loco Martinez:  Mister West.  My friend.  We meet again.  You know, it feels like yesterday when we were both toiling away in New York.  I can remember one of my first matches there post all that AoA… uh… we'll call it unpleasantness, against you.  Thankfully for me, and the SHOOT-iverse tuning into Revolution that 20 something wet behind the ears spastic MoFo is not the man standing before you today. 

He smiles to himself and throws his hands up innocently.

Loco Martinez:  Okay… Okay… Guilty as charged. I'm still a bit spastic!

Loco laughs again. As if he could hear the SHOOT Project collective exclaim "A BIT?!?!"

Loco Martinez:  Now I look at the two of us.  Where we've come from and THIS match and its clear you and I, good sir, are closer to the ends of our careers than the beginnings.  Unless either of us want to be Stellar… and wants that.   At Rock's age TLC matches become WDV matches… *whispers playfully*  Walkers, Diapers, Viagra… its a HARD match to watch.

He smiles cheesily at his word play.

Loco Martinez:  See what I did there?  … … God I'm ridiculous.  Anyway.  Its not coincidence I mention my long time best-good-friend, and former tag team partner.  Speaking of Tag Teams- congrats on the championship.  That was a helluva contest and the boys are working their asses off, literally, hoping to get you and Laz in a rematch sometime… AN. Y.  WAY.   - It was no coincidence.  The last few weeks.  Really since SHOOT's reopening I've spent more time looking back than looking forward.  And with a World Championship match against a close friend moving forward and now OUR match?  You can see how Stellar ends up on my mind.  That's a man I had to on numerous mans put myself into the headspace where he wasn't a friend.  He was  a rival.  He was a threat. 

Like you at Revolution. 

Like Maya at Master of the Mat. 

Its a business that week to week and show to show you have tenuous alliances and even more tenuous friendships, and I'm proud that through the ebb and flow of our careers. The ever changing locales, opponents, and even our own psyches.  That you and I have remained friends.  That we've stood the test of time.  I was so happy when our paths crossed again in SHOOT.  Not just because I'd be working with a man I consider a friend, but also for opportunities like this one.   Loco Martinez versus Lunatikk Crippler.  A match that a year ago would have had so much on the line inside the Master of the Mat tourney.  A match that, if everything went splendidly?  If you win Master of the Mat.  I win AT Master of the Mat.  It could be a precursor for what's to come.  Maybe this is merely a prequel to Loco and the Lunatikk battling for the prize of prizes. The SHOOT Project World Heavyweight Championship.  BUT?

He pauses takes a breath and watches a few moments of the game.

Loco Martinez:  I'm getting ahead of myself.  This bout.  This challenge is exactly what I need.  Because for all the time I've spent looking back?  All the time I've spent looking FORWARD?  If I keep walking around SHOOT with one eye in front of me and one eye behind me?  I'm going to be bumping into a ton of shit and getting NOTHING accomplished.   So?  Before me is a match against on of SHOOT's finest Soldiers.  A former champion… a CURRENT champion, and a man who just qualified for Master of the Mat. 

A second set of congrats, by the way.  I know having that match end via forfeit wasn't what you wanted.  Hell it wasn't what any of US wanted.  That match could have been amazing.  Could have main evented pay per views.   Unfortunately it wasn't to be.  Jonny couldn't go… But guys he SAYS he has nothing to do with sure could. 

You feel Loco's demeanor change at the mention of the Defiler.  A little more venom seeps into his voice.  His eyes narrow.

Loco Martinez:  Some day… MAYBE we'll get that elusive Defiler match, and Mr. Johnson will step into a ring when his body heels up or his excuses run out, but you were looking forward to that match. Truth be told, so was I.   Hopefully, THIS week we're going to make that happen.  *He deadpans with a smirk*   I hope I can be a serviceable consolation prize.  All the hype and excitement and dare I say it… HOPE for that match. The potential Epic-ness and to have that pulled out from under us.  Brought us together. 

He pauses again his demeanor shifting again.  The Cheshire Cat grin returning.

Loco Martinez:  Luckily?  Fates have aligned and you and I have the chance to give SHOOT what they deserve.  We can give the SHOOT-iverse the match they were looking forward to last week.  An amazing contest between two of SHOOT's finest.  Two of the ELITE.  Two long term veterans in a battle that will have fans on their feet.  Because at Revolution? I PROMISE I won't forfeit.  We'll fight tooth and nail and one of us will win. Afterwards ?  We'll shake hands, and maybe go get a beer. 

He takes a break.  Working over something in his mind.

Loco Martinez:  BUT…  this match.  This challenge is what I need.  To get in the ring with someone of your caliber.  A man I respect and a man who I know will push me when that bell rings.  I NEED that.  To challenge myself.  To prove something to myself.  SEE?  Last time I was in the ring it was tagging with Maya.  Before that?  I'm not entirely sure.  There was a battle with Kenji.  I may have had a match with Trouble U…   It was damn near seven months ago.   I DO remember being one of the final two in the Primus?   I remember falling short.  Its a long time I've been away from singles competition.  And getting a World Title match from a time in SHOOT that feels… I dunno… I need to see if I DESERVE it.  I mean… yes.  I earned it.  I am the Master of the Mat.  But right now?  In this MOMENT… do I DESERVE it?  That's what I'm going into Revolution to do.  To fight my ass off inside that ring with one of the best.  To prove to people, and most importantly to myself. 

I have an amazing opportunity.  I have matches with two of my closest friends, but more importantly I have matches with two men who are at the absolute pinnacle of this industry.  I step into the ring at Revolution fighting to prove myself.  To measure myself up against a man I respect.  A man I know will push me to my very limit.  Who loves this business as much as I do, and a man who has just as much to prove and lose as I do.  Momentum going into Master of the Mat can be as valuable as the momentum needed going into a World Title clash. 

Crip?  I look forward to this challenge. 

You're a champion.

You're a helluva competitor. 

And most importantly?  You're a friend... and We have a play date.

In the words of an 80's sitcom theme song… Thank You For Being A Friend.   

Loco smiles and winks.  We go to black.

General Discussion / Happy Baby Daddy Day!
« on: June 15, 2014, 08:33:25 AM »
To all you father's out there,  HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

Pages: [1] 2 3 ... 11