Ever wanted a chance to shine on a global platform?
Want to get your foot in the door for one of the most modern, premiere wrestling organizations in the world?
Just wanna… settle a score with someone?
Here stands Joe Wrestleman not looking a day over 70. His face is wrinkled, but he regards the camera with a sort of soft look before speaking.
Wrestleman: I seem to remember a time early when I was a fresh upstart like this Chadwick or this Dugnutt. I was plum full of salt myself, y’see. I thought I was such a talented hooker, I once spat near the feet of the Golden Greek, egging him on for a fight! A fight, I assure you, I regretted starting. We were in a small town called Bundt–like the cake, you see–and word came down that George Hackenschmidt himself was gonna come watch us wrestle! Well, that gave me the idea that rather than face who I was supposed to, a fella named Thorpe Jeffterton, I’d give ole Jim Londos a try. We were suiting up, and…
These last words are said ad the scene cuts to black. Text on the screen reads “TWENTY MINUTES LATER” before fading back in to the old man.
Wrestleman: …I tell you that story to tell you that I understand where these boys are coming from. But just like me getting hooked into that step over left side shoulder stretch, you two have bitten off more than you can chew.
He smirks and puffs his chest out.
Wrestleman: See Chadwick, you’re a brawler. Bobson, you’re flashy, that I’ll grant you. But neither of you can best me at what it says on the marquee out there: Wrestling.
He hobbles off camera, chuckling to himself.
“Would you take a look at these?”
Up-close; a zoom-in. A microscopic look at brown pigment; a man’s epidermis. Suddenly, we see it: the biggest elbows you’ve ever seen. The Ulna and Ulner collateral ligament swollen; practically encasing the biceps. You’re staring at the largest elbows you’ll ever see on a man.
“That’s right,” the man says with a sense of style, confidence and passion, as he takes a step back. He flexes. His muscles bulge. His elbows are a sight to see as they hang from his arms like a solid boulder that is slightly pointed, but rounded. The bald man, brown skinned, a perfect physique, chiseled, massages the elbow on his right arm as if he’s polishing his prized possession.
“In case ya’ll didn’t get the hint,” he says as he continues to rub and admire his elbows, “my name is Jackson,” and then he turns his attention to his left elbow, “…ELBOW…Jackson,” and he pauses for a brief moment. Then his brown eyes, sharp, attack the camera like a hungry viper.
ELBOW Jackson: I’m going to capitalize on this cheap, prolific, and stereotypical debut. I’m going to show off my elbows for the world to see. Why? Because that’s what this is. It’s a showcase. It’s an advertisement. It’s a tease. It’s my time to give you a glimpse, a glimmer, a perspective…
He drives his left elbow forward toward the lens like a spear; followed by his right elbow. He’s quick, swift, and smooth.
ELBOW Jackson: …and a mouthful of my blue ribbon elbow.
And he is at ease. Arms are at rest. He’s comfortable.
ELBOW Jackson: Ya’ll bitches talk too much. So, that’s where we come in. Like a cork to a wine bottle: I’m gonna shove my elbow so far down ya’throat you’ll be able to taste the last place where I had bad manners.
He lifts up his right elbow for display.
ELBOW Jackson: So, say hello to Lieutenant Mike Harrigan.
He follows that up by lifting his left elbow.
ELBOW Jackson: This? This is Clair Huxtable.
He points at the screen like an army sergeant about to make a brutal point.
ELBOW Jackson: One is law, and the other is order. What God has gifted me is the primal definition of what this program is all about.
He drives his right elbow into the palm of his large, manly left hand. It creates a loud smack from skin meeting skin, and a robust elbow cap smacking against his enlarged palm.
ELBOW Jackson: Shut up…and fight.
He smiles. Teeth pearly white, his eyes filled with purpose.
ELBOW Jackson: We’ll be seein’ ya’ll very soon…
He drives his right elbow toward the camera as it immediately cuts out.
We cut to the back where the lovely Mary Kelly is standing by with SHOOT Project’s newest SOLDIER, Courtney Hatchett. She stands sweaty with a towel around her neck in a teal-colored workout bra. Black workout pants and pink and black Under Armour shoes complete the ensemble. Obviously just coming from a workout, Courtney nods to Mary.
Mary Kelly: Courtney, thank you for joining me here today.
Courtney Hatchett: It’s my pleasure! Sorry for my, uh, appearance. I figured since I haven’t been booked to wrestle yet that I might as well take advantage of some downtime and get some reps in. Got to meet some interesting people here that way, too.
Mary Kelly: No worries, Courtney. I’m sure you will be having a match in no time. People have noticed what you’ve had to say, and one of the quickest ways to get a match in SHOOT Project is to speak up and show yourself. So with that said, I think it’s only a matter of time before you get the opportunity to showcase your talents.
Courtney Hatchett: You’re too kind, but thank you anyway, Mary. It took a while to get.. well, somewhere, in this business. Never did I ever imagine that my first big break would be with a promotion that has one of the richest and involved histories like the SHOOT Project. But now that I am here? It’s time to carve my name into that very same history.
She paused. There was a defined nervousness about her. Being in front of the camera at a SHOOT Project show for the first time will do that to anybody. Despite this, however, she tried her best to maintain her composure.
Courtney Hatchett: When the scouts came to Ann Arbor to hold tryouts, I knew right then and there that I had to make my mark, and that’s when Sir Donovan King noticed me.
She giggled at the ad libbed nature of calling Donovan King “Sir”.
Courtney Hatchett: Before I knew it, I had a contract to become a SHOOT Project SOLDIER for the “Shut Up And Fight!” battalion. How crazy is that!? One minute I’m struggling just to get noticed in gymnasiums and auditoriums, and the next minute… damn. To say I was astonished with the contract offer would be an understatement of the year. I mean, I’m still astonished. Hell, look at my hand!
She held her taped up hand out just for the world to see it tremble. Balling it up into a fist, she lowered it before continuing.
Courtney Hatchett: But here we are. The time for being starry-eyed is over. There is much work to be done and much, much more to prove. Because I’m not just some label. Like, “Girl”. Or, “Some chick with a pretty face.”. Or worse yet, “Another rookie with nothing new to offer in a business that’s seen everything.” To hell with that, I say! Because I-
Her words stop and her face nearly goes white as a ghost. All 360lbs of Akuma Satsui saunters into the camera’s view. Mary Kelly, looking like someone caught between a mountain and a barrel of dynamite, tries to backstep her way out of the interview like Homer Simpson stepping back into the bushes. Satsui stops her with one hand on her shoulder.
Akuma Satsui: NO. AKUMA GONNA BE SICK. YOU. INTERVIEW ME. NOW.
Satsui eyes Courtney up and down. A smile creeps across his chubby face.
Akuma Satsui: Hehehe… YOU. STUPID LITTLE GIRL.. THINK CAN FIGHT BIGGER MEN. HAHAHA.
Courtney’s eyes go red with rage. Grabbing the microphone from Mary’s hands, Courtney sighs.
Courtney Hatchett: Listen, you triple chinned neanderthal. I have fought bigger men before. Bigger men than even YOU. So, if you think for one second I w-
Satsui pie faces Courtney, effectively cutting her off. Mary’s shocked expression says it all. Courtney, on the other hand, stands there with her tongue pressing against her cheek and her mouth forming a small hole of indignance.
Courtney Hatchett: You know what? I was wrong. In fact, I probably just outright lied. In my first interview on Shut Up And Fight, no less.
She closes the gap between Satsui and herself. Eyes narrowing, her tone drops to a near-whisper.
Courtney Hatchett: I am a label. Because I’m THAT ONE BITCH…
She slaps the supremely bigger Akuma Satsui directly in the ear drum, dazing and paralyzing him with an unexpected pain.
Courtney Hatchett: … that you should never trifle with.
Like a powder keg detonating, she gives Satsui a swift kick in the balls. Satsui… goes… down.
Courtney Hatchett: There’s a reason I was brought to “Shut Up And Fight”.
She straddles the groaning Satsui and shakes her head. Completely overtaken with adrenaline, she stomps down directly on his dick and balls.
Courtney Hatchett: Because I actually know how to, big boy.
Lifting her foot, she seethes as she hands the microphone back to Mary Kelly. Doing the “wiping of the feet” motion mere inches from Satsui’s bald head, Courtney walks off camera.
The backstage crew attempts to catch up to NEMESIS, who is making her way to the gorilla position for her match. She seems to know they’re following her, but doesn’t stop for a bit before sighing heavily and turning to face them.
NEMESIS: What? What do you want?
The interviewer stops for a second, not quite sure to react to that before continuing
Interviewer: Umm…we just wanted to ask you about what’s been going on with your fa-
NEMESIS: Really? REALLY?! I won my first match here in SHOOT Project against another multi-generation talent. We went out there and put on one of the best main events this company has ever seen, and this week I’m going out again to fight another blue-chip talent, and all you want to know about is my psychotic old man?
NEMESIS: Nonono, I got it. So let’s cut to brass tacks. I’m not associated, in any…in ANY goddamn capacity with my father. I’m not going out to the ring using his name. I’m not coming out with him as a manager. He is no longer involved in my continued training. He made that decision when he chose to act like a feral animal in the middle of the ring. I hope he finds the peace that’s eluded him all these years. Anything else? Maybe about MY match?
The interviewer gulps lightly
Interviewer: Um…actually we really didn’t…
NEMESIS sighs , rubbing her masked face.
NEMESIS: Of course you didn’t. Well if you’re gonna stick that camera in front of my face I got one more thing to say.
In a frighteningly fast motion, NEMESIS snatches the side of the camera and pulls it close to her face, and for those that know, despite her protests that IS a DeMitri staple. She probably doesn’t even realize it.
NEMESIS: I’m here to win, and blaze my own trail. Anyone that wants to get in the way of that…and anyone in the future that wants to mistake me for my father? I’m gonna put a dent in your fucking skull. Oh…and that goes double for you, Mephisto. You get close to me, if you open your toxic mouth, I’m going to interpret it as an act of violence…and fucking trust me to the bone when I tell you Jacob that I will drop you where you stand before listening to one word coming out of your mouth. My dad might be a gullible old fuck that feels like playing this little game…but I’ll just knock your ass out. I’m fuckin’ done.
NEMESIS turns confidently, and stalks her way to the gorilla position.
Backstage, the feathered peroxide mane of Bobson Dugnutt is running after The Real Deal, Josh Johnson. The boss is on the phone, seemingly not paying attention to the commotion.
Bobson: Ay, ay bossman!
Josh holds a finger up.
Real Deal: Yeah, I’ll call in an hour, just let me know what you’ve found out.
He hangs up and sighs.
Real Deal: Mr. Dugnutt, what can I do for you?
Bobson: Ow daddy, like you ain’t gotten my messages? I keep tellin’ your assistant I’m dead serious!
Real Deal: For the sake of brevity, just say what it is you want.
Bobson turns in a full circle before flexing his guns.
Bobson: I want a shot at that gold, baby!
Real Deal: The SUAF title? I can look at the sheets, and–
Bobson: Naw naw naw naw, daddy. The Hootchie Cootchie Man wants that big gold, you pick up what I’m putting down? I’m talking that big gold, that world strap, baby!
Bob soon looks at him with earnest determination. Real Deal furrows his brow.
Real Deal: …the main belt.
Bobson: Whoo that’s the one!
Real Deal: the top title in this promotion.
Bobson: A top belt for a top man, tell ’em!
This causes the man to bust into a twisting dance that goes on for too long by virtue of ever starting at all.
Real Deal: Bob, there are a lot of people in line for that belt. But, tell you what I’ll do. I’ll keep an eye on you, and we’ll see if we cant get you on the list for a shot at the SUAF title, how about that?
Josh sticks out his hand, which Dugnutt happily shakes.
Bobson: You got yourself a DEAL, baby! Get it?
Real Deal: …thank you for that. If you’ll excuse me?
The head honcho walks off, leaving Bobson to put his hands on his waist and grin.
Bobson: Hootchie Cootchie Man gets that belt,then it’s off to take the other ones too! Bern 28 years but all that hard work is payin’ off, have mercy!
He walks off as well, and we cut away.
The screen is dominated by a close up image of a snake slithering across a rotted log. But, even with this imagery, something isn’t quite right. The movement of the serpent isn’t as smooth as it should be. It’s jerky and unbalanced.
The scene zooms out and we can see the lower half of a large man dressed in faded blue jeans with a pair of hiking boots standing near the log.
The snake slithers off the log onto the ground. There’s a hole in the earth here. The serpent pokes its head into the hole. There’s a jerking motion and the snake is dragged down below.
The scene distorts and jumps and we are suddenly staring into the pale, grey, mad eyes of Jacob Mephisto. There is nothing behind those eyes but madness and zeal. His face betrays nothing else.
Jacob Mephisto: Shut Up and Fight. It’s simple. It’s pure. It’s effective. But, it’s flawed.
The scene distorts briefly, showing a flash of Mephisto from a different angle, a crazed grin on his otherwise stoic face before jumping back to the previous view.
Jacob Mephisto: But, that is not tonight’s lesson. No. Tonight… tonight I invite you to come and see.
The scene flashes and a clip is shown of Azraith DeMitri spiking Robby Bingo. It flashes again and DeMitri is spearing Elgin Blair. One more flash brings us back to Jacob Mephisto.
Jacob Mephisto: This pure concept of just fighting to be the best is just so… wholesome, isn’t it? But, what if it’s about something more? What if it’s about total dominance? What if it’s about finding a platform to let all the rage, all the pain, all of the absolute fuck-all fury out?
We jump cut again and it’s Azraith screaming “COME AND SEE!” The image distorts and it’s Mephisto with his head thrown back in a silent laugh. The scene flashes and we’re back to Mephisto and his pale, grey gaze.
Jacob Mephisto: Let the monsters out. I can show you the way. We’ve only just begun. Come. And. See.
The scene blurs and twists before we’re treated to an extreme close up of those eerie, pale, grey eyes. In the distant silence, the sound of a snake’s rattle rings out.