Title: Angels and Amazons Flash Packet #2
Description: Super T Honda 64!
Overly_Critical_Jue - May 25, 2010 03:48 AM (GMT)
[The camera fades into a shot of dancer/wrestler and punching bag extraordinaire...Ayako Fujiwara, seated on an exercise bike. It looks as if we've caught her post-workout, as she's drenched in sweat and a towel is wrapped over her neck. She's wearing a plain white tshirt, track pants and a pair of worn down sneakers...a far cry from the flashy fashion her mentor wears. Leaning forward on the handle bars, she drops her head and sighs.]
Ayako: (I've been training hard for Angels and Amazons, but I'm not sure if I'm making any progress at all.)
Ayako: (Miyuki seems to be convinced that all Japanese women have some sort of untapped superhuman potential, but I've never felt all that special.)
Ayako: (It might be the fact she taught me how to do a German suplex to perfection and _only_ the German suplex that worries me, but all the other girls just tell me to have more faith in what I'm being taught. Then again, just how far can someone go with knowing twenty variations to the same move?)
Ayako: (I mean, I guess it's comforting to know that I'm not the only Japanese girl fighting straight out of a dojo in this competition, but I'm definitely the one with the least experience. That "T" Honda girl is treated like a little kid by her dojo and she's been wrestling for four years! She can't even call herself by whatever name she wants and she's got approximately five billion times more experience than I do! Four years!)
[She uses the towel and wipes the sweat from her face before continuing on.]
Ayako: (Do you realize how long ago that was? I wasn't even in high school four years ago!)
[Shaking her head, Ayako continues her nervous rambling.]
Ayako: (And someone like Tesla St. James? She wouldn't even need to watch any tape on me! She'd tie me up like a pretzel regardless! The Goblin Queen? She'd use me for a toothpick! Nikki the Cat? She'd hit me with a keyboard or something! The Vampire chick? WHAM! Right between the eyes with a copy of "New Moon"! Apathy? Use her emo to weaken me with the power of crippling depression! Even that stupid British chick bragging about her breasts would probably smack me around! Gaia Brasher? I...)
[Ayako pauses, placing a finger to her lips as a look of confusion forms on her face.]
Ayako: (...well, I don't even know who the hell she is, but I'm sure she'd find a way to maul me too!)
[She grits her teeth and holds out her hands, letting loose an "ARGH!" that we can all understand even without the benefit of subtitles.]
Ayako: (Sure, Miyuki tells me that if I'm in trouble, she'd come save me if she can, but that's embarrassing! I'm supposed to be a wrestler...not some sort of helpless baby! I can't have big sis drop everything and come to the rescue just because Scottie Saratoga's on the warpath!)
[A deep sigh as she slumps her shoulders.]
Ayako: (So what I guess I'm trying to say is that I might be way out of my league here. What am I saying? Of course I'm out of my league here!)
[She shakes her head, looking more dejected by the second.]
Ayako: (I can't go toe-to-toe with most of these women. But you know, maybe if I just found a nice hiding spot, I could survive...)
[As if a lightbulb has gone off in her head, Ayako pounds her fist into her other hand, suddenly excited at her brilliant plan.]
Ayako: (Yeah! That's it! If I just stood behind Goblin Queen all match at the right angle...)
[She begins to speak excitedly.]
Ayako: (...use her like some sort of human shield and German suplex women when they're not expecting it...)
[She nods her head, trying to convince herself this crazy scheme is actually plausible.]
Ayako: (This could work! I can make it work! No one would ever expect it! I just need to-...)
[Suddenly, she stiffens up, realizing how utterly absurd her thinking has become. She grabs her hair in frustration and screams in horror...]
Ayako: (Oh jeez, what the hell am I saying!?!?!)
MINA "THE VAMP" EYRE
[Fade in to a plain black background. Standing in front of this simple backdrop is Mina Eyre. Pale as always, her silver streaked black hair frames her face as her ice blue eyes stare daggers through the camera.]
ME: One thing that always pissed me off about this business is the need to label everyone and everything. It's not enough to go out there and beat the crap out of people, you have to ENTERTAIN. I get that we want to keep fans interested, but thinking like that is what turns awesome technical wrestlers into laughingstocks with shitty gimmicks. Trust me, I know, I have the bite marks to prove it.
[She gestures behind her.]
ME: Or take this backdrop behind me. Plain. Simple. BORING. And when I haven't been in Vampira mode, words I hear a lot of butthurt losers throw my way as if not being a cartoon was somehow a character flaw. Of course, after I choke them out or knock them on their ass I tend to hear far less of that crap.
[A half smile.]
ME: Hell, even the name of this event - Angels and Amazons. Hey, I get it...get women from all across wrestling into a match regardless of stereotype. I'm sure this has been said before, but I'm no Angel, and I'm no Amazon either.
[She draws herself up to full height - near six feet, though more lean than muscular.]
ME: I'm not the little fairy wench with a silicone enhanced roster placement, and I'm not some oaf communicating in grunts and looking for "Snoo-Snoo." I am a wrecking machine in female form, forced to the back of the line due to an unfortunate nickname and backstage politics. But when I'm not fighting a label, when I get the freedom to be me like I have in the DCWL, people take notice.
[She runs a finger through one of her silver streaks.]
ME: So bring me your cartoons, your whores, your angels, and your amazons. Bring me all you women who'd rather be defined by your gimmick than your work in the ring. Come Angels and Amazons, I will show you that I transcend labels. Maybe then, you'll look beyond the surface and see the true depth of Mina "The Vamp" Eyre.
[With this, she walks off stage right. The lights go off. For a second, darkness. Then, a black light flickers on, illuminating the black backdrop. We see an elaborate design, not noticeable before, depicting Mina Eyre standing in a cross pose above a pile of victims. Above the image, in letters that appear to drip blood, is the word "Horrorshow." At the bottom: "Mina "The Vamp" Eyre." After lingering on this, we fade out.]
[The scene fades into publicity photos of...
Tomoko "T" Honda
The Goblin Queen
("This is unbelievable.")
[...Miyuki Ozaki, pinned up on a bulletin board.
The camera swings over to the real life Miyuki, staring at the wall of photos with a look of concern on her face. Her hair is worn down with side-swept bangs and one side has been braided into tight cornrows. She's dressed in a white Panda hoodie jacket complete with Panda eyes and ears on the hood, a black tshirt underneath with a smiling Miyuki on the front with "MILF" in big white letters on the bottom(I don't think it means what she thinks it does...), and a laughably short white tutu skirt.
She scrunches up her face in a frown.]
Miyuki: (Why are there so many Japanese women in "Angels and Amazons"???)
[The camera pulls back, revealing the rest of Miyuki's girl entourage standing behind her with dubious looks on their faces. Miyuki looks at them, getting an annoyed look on her face.]
Miyuki: (Don't look at me like that! This isn't about jealousy, girls! It doesn't matter if I'm no longer a beautiful and unique snowflake! This is a very serious situation!)
Miyuki: (All of you should realize how difficult it is to fight a Japanese woman wrestler...)
[She holds out her arms, shouting in exasperation.]
Miyuki: (...we're all superhuman freaks of nature!)
[One of the girls speaks up, one of the few that we actually know the name of...Michiko.]
Michiko: (Shouldn't you use less...racial profiling in your strategy? There's a lot of other women in this thing!)
Miyuki: (Sure, a diabolically evil genius like Nikki the Cat should draw some attention, but these are my most pressing concern!)
[Miyuki drops her head and crosses her arms over her chest, sighing.]
Miyuki: (As we all know, it's virtually _impossible_ to defeat a highly motivated Japanese woman...and there's like eight of us in this! I'm going to be in the fight of my life!)
Michiko: (But Ayako's going to be in there with you...)
[Miyuki smacks her protege in the forehead.]
Miyuki: (You dummy...Ayako can't be trusted!)
[A shout from the back row...]
Ayako: (How can you say that, Miyuki???)
Miyuki: (Do you understand how barbaric a royal rumble is? There's no honor in there! If you show mercy to a single person, you're as good as dead! If I turn my back on Ayako for a single second, who knows what she's capable of? Anything from throwing me out of the ring to shanking me with a shiv she hid in her boot!)
[She leans in close and furrows her brow, the tone in her voice becoming serious.]
Miyuki: (I can already see the treachery in her eyes.)
Michiko: (You shouldn't be so paranoid...none of us would ever betray you like that.)
[Miyuki tosses her hair and crosses her arms, looking defiant.]
Miyuki: (You're so naive. I'm as pure as a newborn baby's soul and I'd stab Ayako in the back the second she'd let her guard down!)
Ayako: (That's a horrible thing to say, Miyuki!)
[Our Japanese pretty pretty princess offers no remorse for her words.]
Miyuki: (War is hell! Kill or be killed, Ayako!)
[Miyuki turns her attention back to the bulletin board.]
Miyuki: (Now, if I just take out the alpha female in this group, all the others will crumble before me.)
[She stares at the wall for a second, before pointing a glittered fingernail towards one picture. A picture of a gargantuan, monstrous woman.
The Goblin Queen.]
[The camera doesn't show them, but behind her, we can hear Miyuki's girls gasp in shock.]
"(Miyuki...d-don't you know who that is?)"
Miyuki: (I do.)
"(It took nine women to eliminate her last year!)"
[Miyuki doesn't even acknowledge that statement, staring intently at the photo of the monstrous Goblin Queen.]
"(She must weigh at least twice as much as you do!)"
"(There's not anyone that can go toe-to-toe with her!)"
[And that smirk on her lip-gloss covered lips soon turns into a big grin.]
"(You're not afraid?)"
[The smile quickly disappears from Miyuki's face as she slowly turns to her students with a serious expression on her face. The fact she's not smiling seems to unnerve the girls a bit. She doesn't even look at them, instead placing her hands on her hips and lifting her head, shouting for all to hear...]
Miyuki: (MY NAME IS MIYUKI OZAKI!)
Miyuki: (I WILL WIN ANGELS AND AMAZONS!)
[She points to the pictures behind her.]
Miyuki: (And all those other bitches?)
[A demented smile crosses those cherry lip-gloss covered lips.]
Miyuki: (WILL DIE!!!!!)
[And with that, Miyuki brushes past her students and heads straight out the room to prepare for her future battle, leaving the girls behind, somewhat shocked. Finally, Ayako breaks the silence.]
Ayako: Wait a minute...
Ayako: ...my picture's on that board too!
[The cover of an old wrestling magazine featuring a young William “The Wallet” Houlder with a caption reading “The Man with the Midas Touch” appears on screen. Then it dissolves to the outside of what looks like a large apartment complex that a signboard conveniently identifies as the “Maury Bundy Center,” seated in a hilly suburb. The camera pans down a twenty yard long driveway and stops to frame two individuals on the sidewalk.
The first, Bill Houlder, is short, balding, and paunchy. The statuesque blond is astoundingly alluring, squeezed in a tight, white cat suit. She is known as “Viking Vixen” Eveline Eriksen, a beautiful wrestling bully that has probably never needed to use her brain (if any) to get her way. As usual, she's considerably upset.]
EE: What the Sweden are we doing here _again_, Wallet?
EE: Every time we fly to boring Boulder, we stop at this driveway. We're here for the third morning in the row, now.
EE: Boulder is boring, Bill! I want to go to the gym.
[The manager-slash-sugar daddy seems transfixed, as if torn by some inner debate, remaining immobile and mute until some decision is reached. Annoyed, the Norwegian beauty turns to the camera.]
EE: Well, are you going to do something, Jared?
JV: Yeah. Just... hold on, some people are coming.
[Jared Venney, documentary film maker, pans his hand held camera a little up the driveway to capture a plain looking female orderly accompanied by an overweight and awkward bespectacled teenager.]
Orderly: Ex... Excuse me... Are, are you a wrestler?
EE: Of course I am.
Orderly: Are you Eveline Ericksson.
EE: Nei. I'm Eveline Eriksen, stupid. I'm not Swedish.
Orderly: Oh! Wonderful, um, we won't be a bother long.
EE: I hope not.
Orderly: Well, little Joshua noticed you coming here every morning and, well, he watches you on television all the time.
[As he chews on his finger, the teen shyly nods.]
Orderly: So, he made this drawing for you.
[The orderly hands out a sheet of paper that the Nordic Narcissist reluctantly takes.]
EE: Eew. What in Sweden is this supposed to be?
Orderly: It's a drawing of you, miss Eriksen. Isn't it, Josh?
[Behind his thick pair of glasses, the teen nods again. There's something about him...]
EE: No it's not. I'm flawlessly beautiful, and this is ugly as all Sweden. It can't be me.
Orderly: Um... err... Would you mind signing an autograph on little Joshua's copy of your calendar, then?
EE: I don't have a pen.
[The Orderly hands out both pen and top selling calendar.]
Orderly: … With maybe some nice words?
EE: Fine, fine.
[Eveline scribbles something on the calendar, then hands it back, along with the pen and drawing. The orderly frowns and looks at the signature.
She turns white and slack-jawed, a trembling hand slowly reaching up to her lips as she glares back at the Valkyrie as if she had kicked a baby.]
EE: Here's some more helpful advice: no need to stick around and thank me.
[Offended beyond words, the orderly grabs Joshua's pudgy hand and rapidly pulls him away and back towards the complex.]
JV: Gee, did you doodle a flying phallus or something?
EE: Eew, no! I just wrote some advice for the kid, help him out.
EE: You know, something useful. “Stop looking like a fat little retard, it makes you look Swedish. Your Viking Vixen, Eveline.” See?
JV: Holy [BLEEP]!
JV: Um... Did... did you ever hear of Down Syndrome, Eveline?
[Oooh boy. So that's what was up with little Joshua... Yeah, that's not good.]
EE: Is that what Ginger Slut has?
JV: Wow. That's... that was so spectacularly offensive.
JV: On the one hand, I'm thrilled I got this on tape. On the other... wow. Just... wow.
EE: This place sucks, Wallet! I want to get to the gym, now!
[For a moment, Houlder seems to snap out of his trance, like he suddenly decided he'd finally walk up that driveway instead of blankly standing there. He takes a fumbling step forward, then emits a pathetic sigh.]
WH: Uh-um... y-yes. I... I suppose we should go...
[The image cross-fades to a shot of William Houlder, still in his usual suit and tie, seated on an exercise machine. In spite of who he manages, and how devoted he is... everything about Houlder screams “I have not gotten laid in years!”
Behind him, a group of ogling men openly drool while staring at Eveline Eriksen in her white, form-hugging aerobics unitard as she stretches.]
JV: So, uh, William. What was that place, this morning?
WH: Hm? Oh, um... J-just memories.
[That doesn't ring true...]
WH: I... I remember... they used to call me the “M-manager with the Midas touch” b-before I stepped away from wrestling.
JV: Yeah, I read that. You managed a few champions, in the 80's. You were pretty hated back then.
WH: I was... young. I-I thought I knew everything. I did have an eye for t-talent, though...
JV: Like Eveline?
WH: Oh, oh, yes. Sh-she's the best female wr-wrestler I ever saw in-in all my years! Sh-she's an ex-extraordinary athlete, she has the desire to w-win, and I... I don't think I've ever seen anyone train harder, m-male or female.
JV: What about Penny, she doesn't have it?
WH: Th-that's not the issue. The wrestling w-world is fraught with d-danger at every turn. From op-opponents who'll do anything to win t-to... to the men who... who... Wrestling wasn't a good place for her m... for her m... Wrestling isn't a good place for Penny.
JV: Fair enough... but if you were such a successful manager, why did you reorient your career by the end of the 80's?
WH: Y-yes, when I managed someone, they were going to win some gold, I sup-s'pose. B-but... gold didn't K-King Midas any happier. With Penny's mother it... it was c-complicated. I often had to take Penny on the road... and I... I wasn't as certain that the ends justified the means as I once had been... So when I was stabbed by some... um... fans in Topeka, I... I knew it was time. You know? … See if something else would make me happier.
JV: So did it work?
JV: Happiness. You found it?
[Houlder falls silent. Behind him, more male jaws drop when Eveline begins to stretch by bending over to touch her toes.]
WH: I... I know better, now. I... I understand. M-men like me, luh-like Midas, we don't deserve to be happy. We reap what we sow, ee-even if it was sowed long ago. I just... I just... You know, I-I just wanted to make it so my little Penny could be happy...
[More than ever, the man looks like a miserable, pathetic little pug.]
WH: I... I guess I couldn't even do that...
[Behind, the Valkyrie raises her hands and bends backwards, arching her back, preeminently displaying two of her most generous assets. The pool of drool at the massed onlookers' feet but be getting deep enough to swim in, by now. Regardless, one of them is brave enough to step towards the Norwegian vamp.]
WH: I... I worked so h-hard for s-so many years to make all this money... but I can't make anyone happy, Jared. [A depressing sigh.] Not a single person.
[Suddenly, the dark moment of despair is interrupted by an irate Eveline Eriksen.]
EE: WALLET! Some guy _talked_ to me! I want you to find me a better gym, now!
WH: Sh-sure, Leena. Wh-whatever makes you...
[The Nordic Narcissist throws a towel in the startled manager's hands and storms off towards the showers.]
WH: … happy...
[Houlder looks back at Eveline as she walks away, or perhaps just her seductively swaying buttocks. His head drops, his shoulders slump further down, then pathetically waddles after her as the image fades.]
THE GOBLIN QUEEN
[Fade in on the exterior of an abandoned warehouse. The day is overcast with the greying clouds threatening rain sooner rather than later. This casualty of urban blight isn't alone as off to the side are a few junked and rusted automobiles, stripped of anything worthwhile and left haphazardly on the cracked asphalt that once passed for a parking lot. The lawn is overrun with weeds, thistles and poverty grass.
Despite all signs pointing to the obvious that going forward would be a BAD idea, the camera proceeds to enter the building anyway. The inside isn't much better. What windows that aren't boarded up are either broken or spattered with years of grime. The paint job on the walls is chipped and peeling, though some walls have been "repainted" -- tagged by grafitti artists marking their territory. Various refuge and trash are strewn and piled everywhere -- torn insulation, remnants of industrial paperwork scattered and forgotten, and the rotted dregs of what little belongings the desperate squatters who to tried to find shelter here had to leave behind.]
Male VO: You're late...
[The familiar voice is coming from upstairs. There's a fire exit with its door off its hinges that's the quickest way up. A few steps later reveals a darkened room that must have been used as storage space for its workers since there are battered and rusted lockers off to one side. Nearby and looking very out-of-place is the source of the voice, the manager of the Bastard Stampede's Women's Champion The Goblin Queen, Mister Gordon J. Dutt.]
GJD: Charming, isn't it, children? [Dutt's look says otherwise.] This place was simply called "Central Warehouse" here in Albany. It's been abandoned since the nineties. Admittedly, not my first choice for a place to train, but Her Majesty feels a certain..._kinship_ to this building. The perfect place where one can lose Herself in meditation and quiet contemplation...
A frenzied roar reverberates through the darkened room. Panning sharply, we see The Goblin Queen, her crooked teeth bared into a snarl. The Japanese behemoth holds up her shaking fists, knuckles already raw and bloody. Her Majesty throws back her head and lets out another maddening howl, then throws a savage punch into one of the lockers, the metal easily crunching under her force as if it were an empty soda can.
Gordon only gives an exaggerated shrug.]
GJD: ...and who am I to argue with The Queen? [He smirks.] You know, children, people in Albany call this building an "eyesore". And yet they also say that to try to tear this ugly giant down, it would cost far too much! [Dutt nods, his smirk growing more confident as he shakes a finger towards the camera.] There's a valuable lesson there to be learned, children. Still, I have done my best to try to spruce the place up a bit...
[He waves for the camera to follow him, then gestures towards a wall. There, hanging in full color, are life-sized posters of this year's competitors for Angels & Amazons. Dutt's smirk shifts into broad and hungry grin as he rests his hand against a paper Scottie Saratoga's left breast.]
GJD: It's not enough to _win_ Angels and Amazons, children. No, goals must be set and examples must be made. These luscious, though lesser, creatures must be broken...
[Leering, Dutt now reaches up to stroke the side of a smiling Miyuki Ozaki's cheek. Off camera, there is the crash of metal against metal as The Goblin Queen grunts with the effort.]
GJD: ...their sweet dreams must be utterly crushed...
[Dutt stands between Keisha Love and Eveline Eriksen, his fingers lightly dancing up and down their torsos as an eager chuckle escapes him.]
GJD: [voice almost a whisper] ...and all their hopes of tearing The Goblin Queen down will be torn from their pretty, little hearts instead!
[He nuzzles the side of Tesla St. James' face as if drawing in her scent. With a sick grin, he quickly runs a tongue against her throat.
Dutt jerks back as the torn-off door from one of the lockers suddenly smashes against the wall. The Goblin Queen, possessed by a barbaric ecstasy, stalks over to tear the flimsy representatives of her competition down from the wall, screeching all the while. After the last poster is shredded, Her Majesty fixes a baleful eye on the camera, taking up the entire shot.]
GQ: [growling] ...watashi ha satsujin wo gozen niku wo tsukutta. Watashi haanatano sakebi de atae ru. Baishunfu jihi wokokoni mitsu kenai. HAKAI NIHA IMA SUGUDESU!
[The words flash their hateful translation: "...I am murder made flesh. I feed on your screams. You whores will find no mercy here. YOUR DESTRUCTION IS NOW!"
And as she spits out the last syllable, it's punctuated by a sudden flash of lightning from outside. Thunder rumbles. As the storm begins to rain down its fury, The Goblin Queen once again laughs with bestial glee. Fade out.]
Overly_Critical_Jue - May 25, 2010 03:49 AM (GMT)
[As the exterior view of Boulder's “Maury Bundy Center” complex appears on the screen, documentary film maker Jared Venney narrates.]
VO: After I followed William Houlder two mornings in a row to the Maury Bundy Center, I had not initially expected his daughter Penelope to do the same...
[Cut to a homely little bedroom where Penny Zadian, for once without fedora and cigar, is seated next to a discernibly older Persian woman. She has a blank look in her eyes, and stares at a nonexistent dot in the distance. Penny frowns and sighs.]
PZ: Well, this is my mother, Yeva Houl... Yeva Zadian. She uh...
[Penny trails off and falls silent, instead, she affectionately takes her mother's hand in her own. There's a wedding band on the elder woman's finger. The silence growing longer, and Jared decides to act as a catalyst.]
JV: When did she come to the US?
[Fondness disappears from Penny's eyes as her glare shoots radioactive lasers at the lens.]
PZ: She was born here.
JV: Oh, I...
PZ: My grandfather fled the USSR just after World War 2. My mother's as American as I am.
JV: How... how did she and your father meet?
PZ: Wrestling. My uncle, he was a wrestler. Wasn't all that great, but when he started pretending to be Arab... people wanted to pay money to see Sheik Abdul Harad get his ass whooped.
[ As Penny talks, the camera pans from one framed photograph to the next. The first shows a burly man disguised as a stereotypical Arab, surrounded by veiled belly dancers. Next is an old wedding picture, a radiant Persian woman with a young William Houlder in a butt ugly 70's leisure suit.]
PZ: My mother and a few other girls were his pretend harem and that's how she met my father. They got married for the first time not too long after that, I think.
[The camera pans to another wedding picture. While still beautifully exotic, Yeva has so much spray in her hair you can guess the 80's are in full force at this point. A third wedding picture shows Houlder with a comb-over and a little Penelope in her early awkward teens holding a bouquet between the happy couple.]
PZ: They got married and divorced a bunch of times, really. My father always traveled a lot and, you know, they were both pretty pig-headed, I guess. That's-
[Yeva Zadian's speech is slurred, and as the image cuts back to the seated women, one can see that she's not... all there. With a sad and indulgent tone to her voice, the daughter answers.]
PZ: Coming, mom.
JV: … Um, what's...
PZ: What's wrong with her? She had an accident a few years back. A broken neck lead to paralysis... that's bad, I suppose, but the brain trauma is the worst. Some of it was just temporary, but... Yeah, she has memory issues, she has a hard time talking, recognizing people, understanding them...
PZ: Soon, mom.
[Yeva's glazed yet haunted eyes suddenly stare directly at the camera, and a panicked fear overcomes the woman.]
YZ: 'Illy? Amsk Ed, 'illy! Amsk Ed!
[The subtitles appearing on screen say something else: “Billy? I'm scared, Billy! I'm scared!” Trembling in her chair, she begins to violently shake her head, incoherently screaming. Penny immediately rises, miming a “stop filming” gesture at the camera.
The image cross fades to a grim-faced Penny, standing alone in a little flowery garden surrounding the long term care facility, her fedora back where it belongs.]
PZ: Sorry about that. When she doesn't understand what's happening, she... yeah. This is a pretty good place for her, you know... they take care of all kinds of people.
JV: How'd the accident happen?
PZ: Oh, nearly four years ago, now. It was summer, so I was home. They'd been separated again for a while, at the time... dad had his business dealings in Europe again - and that's where he was most of the time - but one day he drops by, all pathetic looking, handing over his wedding ring 'cause he apparently met someone and “doesn't feel right” wearing the thing until they get properly divorced, _yet-a-[BLEEP]in'-gain!
[She bitterly shakes her head.]
PZ: You know, 'cause the man loves pretending he has morals. Anyways, he hands over the ring and bolts for the airport. So mom says [BLEEP] this [BLEEP], takes the ring, and drives after him down to Rocky Mountain Airport. She didn't get there.
[Her voice trembles a little as she deeply inhales.]
PZ: So anyways, while the old man's having a ball with his Swedish whore, I've got to deal with all the [BLEEP] and pick up all the pieces.
JV: He didn't even come back when he learned about it?
PZ: Well, I didn't tell him. If he cared, he wouldn't have left me... her. [She shakes her head.] Yeah, the [BLEEP]hole... he came back about two months later with the divorce papers. The decided he'd pay for everything - like this place, here - 'cause that's always his solution to everything: throw money at it until it gets better.
PZ: But mom ain't never getting better, no matter how many checks the man signs, she's not gonna get any better. But he keeps paying, oh, he always pays. But do you know how often mom cries his name, huh, do you?
[She aggressively wipes a tear, mad that emotions could be getting the best of her.]
PZ: She's calling out for him everyday, but do you know how often he comes to see her?
PZ: Not once! Not a solitary [BLEEP]ing time.
JV: Actually, from what I understand he comes by pretty often...
PZ: Oh, [BLEEP] you, Jared. I asked the orderlies. The only person that has ever visited her is me. Just me.
JV: I think maybe he just feels too guilty to...
PZ: No [BLEEP], Sherlock! That's because he [BLEEP]ing is! It's all his fault, him and that dumb [BLEEP]ing whore of his!
YV: Don't you want him to-
PZ: NO! No, I just want him to suffer. Suffer the way he makes mom suffer. And his slut can just keel over and _die_, already.
[Her face becomes a little distorted by the grimaces of sorrow...]
PZ: Is that wrong? I just want her to die, I don't care if I look like a bad person or anything... [she wipes another tear] ...so long as no one ever sees her dumbass, vapid face again! I just... I just...
[She tries to shake away the emotion, but it persists. She digs into the inner pocket of her jacket and retrieves a thick cigar, which she angrily lights with a silvery zippo. She looks furious... mad at herself for nearly wailing in front of a rolling camera, mad at the world for years of pain and distress... who really knows?
Penny puffs on the lit cigar, an activity that seems to soothe her.]
PZ: Damn, sorry about that. Just get carried away, you know? I guess I've got a little bit of anger in me, huh? Been managing and all, but I'm not the one in the ring, see? I never get the outlet I need... [BLEEP]ing white-haired douchebags, gold-digging whores... and the more nut-jobs there are at Angels and Amazons, the better.
[She puffs again and a little cloud of billowing smoke floats away.]
PZ: This time, I've got my outlet. Get in that ring and cause as much havoc, distress and pain as I can. That's exactly what I need, right now.
[She closes her eyes, savors the moment and smiles.]
PZ: And if I wake up banged up and bruised all over the next morning, hurting like all hell, I don't care. [She points at her chest] 'Cause I know that in here, I'll be a whole lot better.
[The screen slowly cross-fades to black, then cross fades again to a family picture; a very young little Penny holds her first judo trophy between her loving parents; William and Yeva.]
VO: And that was all I could learn of the sad tale of William Houlder and his daughter. When I tried to contact any of them again, they had left Boulder in search of vengeance, redemption, and the greatest prize in women's professional wrestling...
+Musical Inspiration: Theory of A Deadman - Sacrafice+
Match: Angels & Amazons
Location: Studio A - Apathys private venture
Cast of Characters: Apathy
“It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change. <quotation/it_is_not_the_strongest_of_the_species_that/7533.html>” - Charels Darwin
“In the story of the mistress and the beast, the beast is always surely pegged to win. But I am no mere woman, no mere mistress of the squared circle, no, I am the femme dynasty. The Dynast Queen if you will. And I succumb to no man, no woman, no beast of a thing, for I am the immortal. The standard of a test of time, grace, and dextereity. I rise above most, I answer to none, and my legacy, built with mine own two hands, will linger, successfully, after I have long since passed.”
“My name will be synonymous with greatness and my face the poster for elite. My accolades will reverberate through history and when this world ends, love me, or hate me, you and everyone else who’s paths I enlighten with my grace and tact, will remember my name.”
“The glory of this bout is fleeting. Last years winner, this years old news. Who did win last year? See I don’t even remember. You all scramble and claw for the glory of the moment where as I...have more grand plans then you could ever imagine.”
++It was truth I spoke. It always way. No matter how twisted or distorted it may seem. I’ve tasted many a victory, and this? My involvement in Angels and Amazon? It was for spite. They were all hungry for the glory and the fame. The temporary sustainment of knowing that out of every woman involved, for that one shining night, and the next year, they were the best that they could be. I’m better. I’m always better. My apathy towards fame and the struggle within, is what made me the better woman. They needed this to pad their resume. They needed this approval to make their struggle worth while. I was past that point. I conquered it a long time ago. I was now on to phase two. Total domination++
“Imagine for a moment this, you bolster your ego, and you quip your lines, you profoundly declare your superiority to us all, and then, you look at me and you count me out. Afterall, I have already declared that I have no intention to win this event. I’m just here because I want you slackjawed, wet behind the ear, wenches to show me that I didn’t toil in vain. Now picture that big night. It’s down to the wire. While you are all eliminating and wasting yourselves out vying for the fans applauds and trying to impress your elders, I come in and snatch that which you hold dear away, in one graceful felt swoop. Toppled by a woman who quite honestly, by some peoples accounts in this business, is beneath you. Is your lesser. A has been, a she hag of epic proportions. Egg on your face, accolade under my belt.”
“You see the thing with me is, you never see me coming or going. I could be right there in front of your face, and somehow, the knife ends up in your back, and vice versa. The other thing about me? I don’t hide my intentions. I’m a liar. An honest liar. The truth is, everything I could be selling you, is a lie. I could very well just be trying to even the playing field by trying to get you to change your minds about me and not give me an after thought. Or...I truly could, just be here to enjoy the ride.”
“Because the fact is, that my name is synonymous with fame and glory. Just how it is.”
“My saturation rate goes up just by my name being printed on the poster. And I love that. I really do. You are all, what, young guns? Future female legends? I’m sure we have some seasoned vets, the ones who walked the straight and narrow and they are here for the “good of the sport”. I’m sure we have some “bad” girls who think a pair of booty shorts and a bikini top, a cliche tattoo that they got while they were drunk on spring break and some temporary highlights in their hair makes them nobody to mess with. You chicks wouldn’t know bad if it bit you on the rear. Likewise, there is no “good of the sport”, not if you want success. Sometimes the rules need to bend, the hearts need to break and, if need be, the blood needs to flow.”
++I gave up on the ideals of the “good of the sport” ages ago. I also stop pretending I was bad. I don’t subscribe to labels and lifestyles. I am who I am. I am unapologetic and I’m okay with that. I cracked my bottle of water open, the lights overhead were blinding me and roasting my scalp. I had some more time to kill before the dress rehearsal. Lucky them++
“My blood has flowed many a time. I gave my all for this business. For women like all of you. But just like this wicked mistress called wrestling, you too turned your backs to me and gave me no thanks. Believe me, I’m not really all this bitter, I’m just honestly realistic. We women are a horrid thing, built on sin and lust and our cogs they turn with the aid of bitterness and jealousy. You think that because you’ve won a few titles, that people “respect” you, that you’ve arrived. No. You haven’t. Not in my eyes. And not in the eyes of every woman who was swallowed alive by this cruel fate.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. This is what I live and breathe and I could ask for no better an addiction then the sweet sound of applause at the end of a hard fought victory. Or the sweet taste of bitter blood on my lips, after a bittersweat defeat. I fully acknowledge, I lose. I embrace that. And yet again, my preception of this business, is what makes me a better athlete. This business goes far beyond brawn and beauty. It is an art to be mastered. I have mastered it.”
“It is easy to speak the words, to learn the moves, it is a whole other conception to turn it into a poetry like trance. It isn’t enough to learn the business, it’s about knowing it. It’s about studying the finer arts. That which I have done. I don’t declare my superiorty based on something as frail and flighty as championships, tournaments, and fleeting respect because let’s just cut to the sweet chase of things, respect fades. We’re all a part of a machine that evolves. Todays champeen, is tomorrow has been. It doesn’t matter how good you are, or how many accolades you have on your wall, there is always, ALWAYS, someone else perfecting your perfection and when that horrible day comes, when you have been bested, you have but two choices, step aside and fade into that good night, forgotten and replaced, or you evolve. I evolve. I am an ever changing femme dynasty of epic proportions. I am a woman of many faces, many creeds, I am everyone and no one at the same time. My perfection of identity and self, my brilliance of mind, heart and soul, my humbleness, my arrogance, defeats everything that you have and ever will achieve.”
“So in the essence of sportsmanship, I will sit here on this stool, drink my water and say to all of you, that in the end of all the stigmata, I don’t care about winning, not because I think I have achieved all that I can, but because I am not foolish enough to set myself up for disappointment. I go into any battle with the mindset that I do my best, I achieve my personal goals, I meet mine own expectations and in the end, if my best garners a win, a title, something of any signifigance, then not only have I appeased my own self critical thinking, but I have done it in a way that not only proves to myself my superiority of self, but the world knows that there is a better way to do things. I am not arrogant or even self defeating in nature. I am merely a woman who has seen things, been through things, that quite honestly, I wish upon none of you.”
“I am merely she who has reached the peak, and I have no intention of coming down until I am good and ready. And if that means tossing a few of you off the summit to stay here, I will do it.”
“You do this your way....and I....will like always....do it mine.”
[And so it begins again, this twisted mockery of competition. The rats and the weevils crawl out from the foetid sewers of this once-proud business to vomit their verbal bile over the walls of the collective mass-media consciousness, dribbling on and on and _on_ about how they "can't lose" and need a win in order to justify their pathetic existence for another few months, until the bubble bursts and their aura of invincibility - a sham that fools no-one but themselves - leaves them behind. So what's the point of all this? What's in it for someone like _me_, who sees through the veil of bulls*** and finds the truth to be sorely lacking? Well, if I'm honest...hold on...
[Jerking awake at her desk, in her office hidden away in the mock sphinx on the Vegas strip - yes, I am completely serious - Samantha Valiant slaps herself very firmly across the cheek, almost knocking the chunky augmented-reality visor off the bridge of her nose in the process.
At a smaller typist's desk nearer the door, Melanie Guiterrez looks up from her book-keeping with the usual look of long-suffering patience she reserves solely for dealing with her boss.]
SV: No, uh...just had a bit of an 'Apathy Moment'. Think it's passed now, thank christ.
MG: I get those every day.
SV: No, yours are apathy with a small 'a', and are also known as being f***ing bone-idle. Anyway...
[Pushing herself up out of her chair, Samantha turns to the panoramic window that looks out over the city's neon-drenched night-life, then brings her gloved hands together with a sharp _smack_. Spreading them wide again, she leaves her fingertips splayed out in mid-air, at roughly head-height.]
SV: Begin recording, datestamp May 19th 2010AD.
MG: Oh, right, so you spent all that money on a dictaphone stuck to a Virtual Boy?
SV: It's a little more than _that_, Melanie...
[Thanks to some post-production trickery, we can see what Samantha sees through her it's-not-a-Virtual-Boy-I-swear; a flickering hologram column stretching from floor to ceiling, made from thousands of flickering tiles, each showing a five-second video loop. Spreading out from Samantha's finertips are two empty folders, each standing open like holiday photo albums waiting to be filled with shots of swivel-eyed drunkenness.]
SV: It's an intuitive filing system for dealing with all your random thoughts and junk mail in an interesting and eccentric way, perfect for very smart people with a hell of a lot of money to throw around. And, hey, whaddaya know -
[Drawing an imaginary box in the air, Samantha opens a window within the program which quickly resolves into a white web page sporting over-inflated text columns and a scowling portrait of herself.]
SV: - my wiki page says I'm an uber-rich genius. Ergo, I get all the Batman tech I want.
MG: Funny, I thought you car was -
SV: Stop talking. Brain thinking. Hush.
[Melanie rolls her eyes and returns to her work.
Reaching into the virtual information column before her, Samantha extracts certain panels and spreads them in a halo-like formation through the air around her, talking to herself the whole time...]
SV: If nothing else, this certainly helps to get a better grip upon the - and I use this term more loosely than _your mother_ - competition. Since there's so many of the little scumbags, I can't very well deal with every single one individually...well, actually, I _could_ do that. It's just that they're not worth quite that much effort. So instead, I'm doing what I almost always do - make rude generalisations, marginalise and slander all and sundry.
[She smiles a little at that.]
SV: Fun times. Anyway, starting with some of the most distasteful of all, there's those damn Japs.
[A succession of careful taps enlarges the panels pertaining to Ayako Fujiwara, Miyuki Ozaki, Sonoko Kobayashi and...er, one that's labelled only with a massive question mark. That'd be Tomoko Honda, but don't tell Samantha that because she clearly doesn't care. All four womens' voice begin to play at once, causing Samantha to wince visibly.]
SV: Oh god, audio off...
SV: Better. It's bad enough that these idiots force me to bother checking with Google just to make sure I'm getting their spellcheck-nightmare names right, but then they go and expect us to read subtitles purely because they're too monumentally _thick_ to learn English like the rest of the world? Frankly, if these squinty-eyed ingrates aren’t going to take the time to make their threats against me legible, then _I’m_ not going to make the effort to take them seriously. File under ‘ignore’.
[Gathering up all four avatars in the palm of one hand, Samantha raises them to her mouth then blows them away, like a kiss. The images scatter like leaves on a digital wind before disintegrating into jaggy-edged Atari-era polygons. Stylin’.
Looking over the remaining profiles, Samantha taps her lower lip in thought, then nods satisfactorily.]
SV: Next, I was thinking about going on another rant r.e. the always-tiresome ‘freaks & geeks’ subclass, which were far more prevailent than I would’ve liked in last year’s event. Curiously, however – and in some ways this makes me happier than people getting fired on The Apprentice – their numbers have lessened this time around, with only the Goblin Queen and the Viking girl, Eveline, remaining.
[Into another folder go those two.]
SV: I think that, in future, it may be possible to save Eveline from herself, actually. She’s still quite young, and her haughty demeanour is wonderful to behold. She just needs to be reminded that pride in a nation leads nowhere, for a nation is just a landmass, something we need to stop ourselves from living in the sea. People are what make nations great, and the only person Eveline needs to care about is herself. Given time, she _might_ get it. Of course, it’s too late for the Queen, but then...it was ‘too late’ last year as well. _Plus ce change._
MG: There’s supposed to be an accent in there somewhere.
SV: It’s _French_, nobody cares.
[Samantha folds the file into two halves - then pauses, an reaches back across for another profile pic.]
SV: Actually, let’s lump Apathy in with these two as well. The whole lone-wolf goth ‘I’m a loner nobody cares about yet it’s important you pay attention to me’ schtick isn’t that far removed from typical freak behaviour, since it essentially stems from the same core problem; drawing attention to a blatantly false persona to cloud over the fact you’re ashamed of how ordinary and _boring_ you think you are. These people don’t need to be wrestling, they just need a good psychiatrist...
[With a few more quick folding motions, the file now resembles a paper aeroplane, which Samantha gently throws away, watching it glide around in a loop-de-loop before vanishing upon contact with the wall.
[...as her attempts to ignore her boss continue to fail.
Next, Samantha draws out a further two avatars; those of Tesla St. James – whose image is obscured completely by Samantha’s hand, as if Sammy’s unwilling to give her any more screen time in her segments than she already has – and Kaylee Turner.]
SV: And of course, lest we forgot...the _humble_ ones.
[Samantha’s voice somehow finds a way to drip with even more sarcastic disdain than usual.]
SV: The ones who say they’re not here to win. The ones that say they’re just here for the challenge. The ones that _lie_ to their fellow competitors and the audience – but not to themselves, oh no, since of course they’re fully aware that what they say is bulls***. Now, I may be called an amoral cow with less empathy for my fellow man than the average tiger shark, and there’s probably not a lot I could do to disprove that analysis, but at least when it comes to the crowds who flock to these shows, I am invariably honest; I don’t care for their opinion, and I make sure they know it. _Your_ worthless hides, by comparison, play up to the masses’ desire for a hero, for an everywoman who ‘doesn’t quit’ and ‘gives it her all’ despite being born of inbred Alabama yokels and receiving most of her education herding cattle and shooting Mexicans. You pull a veil over your years of training and college degrees as you apply your chapstick and get ready to plant your lips on the fat, greasy collective buttcheeks of our paying customers, and in doing so you pull off the astounding double-whammy of betraying their trust _and_ insulting their limited intelligence. _Wow._
[Samantha mimes applause with a bitter scowl tugging at her features.]
SV: Or, y’know, maybe I’m wrong. _Maybe._ That doesn’t happen often, but it’s not impossible. Except then, what? You really came to A&A with no concern for whether you win or lose? There’s a term for that sort of people – ‘brain damaged’. Frankly, if this whole show is of _that_ little concern to you, then _you_ are no concern of _mine_.
[Clutching the virtual folder with both hands, Samantha crumples it up into a ball and tosses it irritably over her shoulder.]
COMPUTER VOICE: Three-pointer!
[By the door, a wastepaper basket suddenly shakes, as if something had just landed in it. Melanie blinks, and peers over her desk towards it...then shakes her head, mouthing ‘nah...’ and goes back to work.
The field of competitors is looking much slimmer now. Samantha stares at them, her jaw twitching in concentration, for three solid minutes before sighing, running one hand down her face, and bringing the remaining 21 pictures together with beckoning gestures.]
SV: Y'know what, actually? After carefully weighing the evidence, I can confidently state that -
[And she grunts as she forcibly swings both arms away, causing all the remaining photos to fly off at different angles before winking out of existence.]
SV: ...that absolutely _none_ of you matter.
CV: System reverting to sleep mode.
[Samantha removes the visor at last, and blinks tears out of her strained eyes, before looking around the room, like she's forgotten where she put something.]
SV: Because at the end of the day, it doesn't matter if you're a bunch of freaks, or you're loaded with false humility. It doesn't matter if you're fat or thin, bald or hairy, ninjas or pirates. You could be a gang of trained cockatoos for all the difference it makes to me. What you are...all 29 of you...is simply the barrier between what is mine...
[One sweeping hand gesture indicates a golden title belt mounted on the wall, engraved with the nom de plur 'Veronica Valiant'.]
SV: ...and what _will_ be mine. Respect. I want you lowlifes to stand to attention when I come down that ramp, I want your hearts to freeze in your chest when I look your way. I want you to run screaming towards the nearest border if you so much as hear my name mentioned. And when I win Angels & Amazons...that dream will be one step closer to reality.
MG: ...are you still recording, or...should I be writing this down?
JT: We're ready to go.
[Melanie almost jumps out of her chair at the sound of Jun Takada's voice; the man entered the room and took up position without a sound. Samantha, for her part, treats this as normal, and simply nods briskly, picking what we can only hope is a _faux_ fur coat off the back of her chair.]
SV: The bags are all packed?
JT: Of course.
SV: Then away we go. Make sure to leave a note at reception, the A&A staffers'll be around for the camera later.
[Samantha points towards us...well, not us, but our viewpoint, the camera lens. Melanie follows her gaze - then squeaks and crosses her legs.]
MG: That's been there the _whole time_?
SV: I wasn't talking just for my own personal records...
MG: But...it's so low to the floor! And I'm right across from it and - I have a _skirt_ on!
[Heading for the door, Samantha stops long enough to pat Melanie sardonically on the shoulder.]
SV: _I'm_ in the room. Nobody's looking at _you._
[With that odd mixture of reassurance and condescension, Samantha heads out the door - held open by Takada - and disappears, followed by her right-hand man. The door slams shut, and Melanie scowls across at the camera, her hand seizing a stapler on her desk...]
MG: Well, they're looking _now_...
[With an irritable snarl, she heaves the stapler towards the lens and -
Voiceover: Last time on “Keisha Love: Rise of an Angel”, Keisha dealt with long simmering family tensions…
[Scene opens to Keisha Love, standing before an older African American couple. She eyes them angrily, folding her arms across her chest.]
Keisha: Admit it! You guys have hated my career from the start!
[The couple exchange bewildered looks before focusing their attention on Keisha.]
Older man: What are you talking about, honey? We’re the ones that paid for wrestling school and went to all of your shows.
Older woman: What’s going on with you, Keisha? You come in here, screaming and hollering, acting strange for no reason. Is this about the camer…
Keisha: [quickly cutting her off] Screw you, mom! And you too, dad!
[Keisha storms from the room, slamming the door behind her, as her mother flashes a look to her father.]
Keisha’s Mom: You better get that child. She’s still not too old for an [Bleep] kicking.
Voiceover: and a night of partying in Vegas…
[Shots of Keisha and some girlfriends in a club, quite obviously drunk. Keisha is shown dancing on a table, kissing some random dude, and then throwing a drink in his girlfriend’s face.]
Voiceover: that led to a tense confrontation from her trainer, Slim.
[Keisha is shown in a wrestling ring, standing across from a stern older gentleman.]
Slim: You say that you want to win Angels and Amazons, Keisha, but I don’t believe you. You come for training late after partying and drinking all night. And you’ve got nothing but excuses. Hell, you didn’t even wear the right shoes!
[The camera flashes quickly to the killer stiletto heels on Keisha’s feet before returning to Slim.]
Keisha: But Slim, these are the new Pradas!
[He shakes his head and throws up his hands.]
Slim: [mutters] They don’t pay me enough for this. [speaking in his regular tone] That’s it. I’m done.
[He throws off his microphone and glares at the camera, before giving it a shove.]
Slim: And get that [Bleep]in’ thing out of my face!
Keisha: What? You can’t quit! Slim!?!
[The scene freezes on a close-up of a shocked! Keisha.]
Voice: Tonight, deserted by her trainer, will Keisha continue on her quest to win Angels and Amazons? Find out tonight’s season finale!
["Angel" by Aerosmith begins to play as various scenes of Keisha Love flash across the screen. One minute, she's flirty. The next, angry. And then surprised….or is that coy? Finally, stoic as "Keisha Love: Rise of an Angel" flashes across the screen in heavenly, white letters.]
[The scene then cuts to an exterior shot of a fancy shmancy resort. The words "Beverly Hills" flash across the screen as we hear Keisha’s voice.]
Keisha Voiceover: After Slim practically left me high and dry, I had to clear my head, which called for hanging with one of my oldest and best friends, Lara Andress.
[The scene shifts inside of the resort, where we find Keisha and Lara sitting poolside. Both women are wearing matching robes and sipping from flutes of champagne.]
Lara: So, he just walked out on you?
[Keisha nods and Lara shakes her head.]
Lara: That is completely inappropriate, Keisha.
Keisha: [sighs] I know. He kept saying that I wasn’t taking training seriously. But who can blame me? Have you seen these women that Angels and Amazons have put together?
[Keisha makes a face.]
Keisha: I could beat them in my sleep! They’re a bunch of uneducated, poorly bred crackheads! The thought that any of them could possibly be any sort of competition is laughable. I mean, two of them were actually arrested. And another one of them’s really fat.
Lara: [shudders] Dreadful.
Keisha: I know, right? I thought I was going to be getting some serious competition, like when I was in Japan. But these chicks are sub-par at best. None of them can even compare to me.
Lara: But what are you going to do, without your trainer?
Keisha: After thinking about it, I realized that I don’t even need him. I’ve gone this long, without someone breathing down my neck. So, why change things now? Just look at me. I’m in better shape than I’ve ever been. And my wrestling speaks for itself. I predict that I’ll win this thing in record time, just tossing that trash out of the ring, one after the other. And I hope Slim is watching too, so that he can see that I was even better without him.
[Keisha grins, waving her hand.]
Keisha: I’m finally going to get my happy ending, Lara. I spent years, trying to get to the level that I deserve in wrestling. And now, I’m just moments away from making it happen. After Angels and Amazons, I guarantee that my name will be on everyone’s lips and every wrestling promotion will finally be beating down my door, as I make the leap from dancer and television star to wrestling legend.
[Her grin widens as she raises her glass.]
Keisha: And that’s certainly worth drinking to!
[Lara raises her glass as well.]
[The two women touch glasses as the scene fades.]
Voiceover: Coming up next on “Keisha Love: Rise of an Angel”…the preparations for Angels and Amazons intensifies!
[There is a close-up of Keisha’s face, a look of discomfort and pain etched on her features.]
[The camera pans to see that a manicurist is working feverishly at Keisha’s nails. She looks up at Keisha with a contrite expression.]
Manicurist: I’m sorry, Miss Love.
Keisha: [flashing her most withering glare] Watch it, skank!
[The scene fades as we mercifully go to commercial.]
TESLA ST. JAMES
[Suddenly, as if from nowhere...]
TESLA ST. JAMES...
["Rock You Like a Hurricane" by The Scorpions plays... no... erupts.... NO... IT EXPLODES over your sound system, blasting your ear drums like thunder, vibrating your skull like a blender filled with salt, rocks and aluminum foil! It's a cacophony of insanity! If that doesn't describe it well enough for you, just imagine your standard Michaal Bay movie trailer! Explosions! More explosions! EVEN MORE explosions!]
[As the heavy metal standard obliterates every last fabric of reality in your brain, we see yes... MORE EXPLOSIONS... and our heroine of the movie trailer, Tesla St. James, covered with grime and gore and sweat and blood! And she has machine guns! AND BATTLE AXES! WITH LASER SIGHTS! WHILE RIDING A GREEN TIGER IN ARMOR!]
THE HARBINGER OF HAMILTON!
THE TERROR OF TEXAS!
THE RED ROSE OF PAIN!
ACTION HAS A NAME!
AND IT'S TESLA ST. JAMES!
[Explosions... EVERYWHERE! Tesla St. James with a rocket launcher, firing at a ninja on a motorcycle. Tesla St. James with a jump rope taking out pirates! Tesla St. James dressed as a barbarian queen beheading robots and surfing on rabid polar bear/killer whale hybrids! They kick ass while saving gas! AND THE ENVIRONMENT! ]
TESLA ST. JAMES
THE ULTIMATE ANGEL AND AMAZON!
[EXPLOSIONS! UNIVERSE SHATTERING RIPS IN SPACE AND TIME! GO-BOTS FIGHTING TRANSFORMERS! THUNDERCATS [BLEEP]ING SILVERHAWKS! CARE BEARS EATING STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE!]
TSJ: I didn't actually pay for this did I?
[And just as suddenly as this movie trailer of insanity began, it brings us to reality. Instead of being immersed within the trailer, we are in a board room, watching it on a television. While a large television (flat screen to boot) it’s clearly the most epic thing in the room. Except maybe the large meeting table. It's made out of a nice looking maple.]
TSJ: And did you make my boobs bigger?
[Sitting at this table is the "star" of the trailer, Tesla St. James. After seeing her computer enhanced breasts on the television, she can't help but look down and feel almost... dirty. If nothing else, violated. She looks up, expecting an answer from one of the two other people there. One is a woman. One is a man. Both are about as sleazy and cheesy as they come. Yes, they're Hollywood executives.]
Woman: Bigger boobs equal bigger Q-rating.
Man: We call it the Angelina Jolie factor.
Woman: We could redo it with the Megan Fox cut.
TSJ: Which is?
Woman: Daisy dukes and a tank top. But without the acting chops.
[Tesla tries to think that one over and it seems as if she has a massive headache hitting her all at once. She glances at the TV, that while muted, you can feel the explosions in your mind!]
TSJ: Can we please turn that thing off?
[The man picks up the remote and does as he is requested. Both the executives smile ear to ear, waiting to hear what their client thinks.]
TSJ: I fail to understand how that is supposed to represent me.
Woman: It shows you're cool, you're hip and ready to kick ass and take names!
Man: It's a whole new paradigm shift! We're taking this to the next level!
Woman: WE'RE GOING EXTREME!
TSJ: But don't you understand? That's not who I am.
Man: Yes, well, we feel that’s the problem.
TSJ: The problem?
[Tesla leans forward, her eyes narrowing at the mention of "the problem."]
Woman: Tesla dear... can I call you Tesla?
Woman: Tesla, we feel that you're... not very exciting. The kids... the typical wrestling fan can't identify with you. You're not flashy and well, you dress like an awkward teenager hiding the fact you have hips.
[Tesla looks down again, not agreeing with that statement one bit.]
Man: So we had to dress your image up. Add robots and explosions, multiply that by a butt load of ninja pirates on waterskis and people will be dying to see you wrestle.
Woman: The people who do know you know that you can fight and win. But they have to care! They have to see that "inner bitch!"
Man: Ding! Buzzword!
[Out of nowhere, the executives high five one another.]
TSJ: Yeah, you two aren't getting this. Rather, you're not getting _me_. I'm not flashy nor have I ever been. I have a straight forward approach because that is the methodology that works best for me.
Man: "Methodology." That's a good word. Let’s use it at our 2:30 appointment.
Woman: I've got it marked on my IPhone.
TSJ: Listen you two... I don't need a fancy movie style campaign to show off who I am. That's up to me in the ring. I don't have to unleash my "inner bitch" to be noticed. Samantha Valiant hates me for just breathing and Eveline Eriksen would just as soon see me tossed off a bridge. That's proof positive that I can rile people up all on my own. And anybody who knows even a little bit about me knows that when I return to Angels and Amazon, I will bring every ounce of effort, every bit of fire to that ring. My goal is to win and I don't have to have special effects or jugs bigger than Mt Rushmore to do it.
Man: So... what you're saying is that you don't like the trailer we made?
TSJ: That's exactly what I'm saying. I don't need it.
Woman: But all the money we spent...
Man: It's all right. We can sell it to Cinemax.
TSJ: Are we done here?
Woman: If we digitally alter her face to be Oprah, we can sell it to Oxygen.
TSJ: Aye, I guess we are. I can get back to some normal training.
Man: We can turn her green and make it the next Shrek!
[As Tesla slips out, the two executives high five one another. They turn around, realizing that Tesla is no longer there.]
Man: Where'd she go?
Overly_Critical_Jue - May 25, 2010 03:50 AM (GMT)
[The shot opens on a pair of glistening breasts, modestly, or
immodestly depending on how you look at it, covered by two triangular
panels of silver cloth held together by a bit of string. Again, we
hear the woman before we see her face.]
W: Loathe as I am to admit I agree with anyone of the other B[BLEEP]s
and Bulldykes, I have to say, Kaylee Turner, you do make a good
[The shot pulls back to reveal the self-proclaimed Brummie Bad Girl,
Holly Oakes, dressed in a silver string bikini and a large pair of
sunglasses, her dark hair falling in waves past her shoulders. She is
sitting in a deck chair and there is an orange drink with a slice of
pineapple on the rim of the glass and a pink paper umbrella on the
wooden table next to her.]
HO: Some of these competitors have so much history, but history can do
you squat except, maybe, for Scottie Saratoga, who's trying to
one-better her performance last year. If anything, history might play
to my advantage because, while you're too busy looking out for someone
else, either watching their back or looking to take them out, you take
your eyes off the English glamor model whose only obvious assets seem
to be these babies on her chest. As for the rest of the manufactured
drama, someone remind me again why I'm here? If I wanted drama, I
could have stayed in England and watched Eastenders on telly. Beats
listening to those two other slags from the Old Country, the
Pants-Dropping Angels, Lezzer Doolittle and her friend, Izzy Do-All.
Beats watching those cartoon characters, Miyuki Ozaki and Ayako
Fujiwara. Beats watching the black Tila Tequila, Keisha Love. But
nobody's here to win Miss Congeniality, so, no, having a personality,
or lacking one, as the case may be for most of you, won't affect your
performance in the Rumble. There won't be any audience votes, there
won't be any popularity polls. There'll just be pure, bloody mayhem,
just the way I like it. Because when it comes to Holly Oakes? Dirty
isn't just something she's like in bed.
[Fade to black as Holly Oakes reaches for her drink.]
NIKKI THE CAT
[Fade in. The footage is grainy and a touch out of focus. Down in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen is the logo of a well-known (legal) video hosting site. Of more importance notice, however, is the woman's face taking up most of the shot. Due to the "quality" of the footage, not to mention the fact that her forehead is cut-off (thank you, poorly positioned webcam), it's tough to make out who she is initially...
...until she speaks.]
[Yep, Nikki the Cat is back on the internet. God help us all.]
Nikki: OhmiGAWD this is like SO COOL! OK, OK, so like I got a TON of fan mail for when I did that TNT thingy a couple months back for UWF. And they were all like, "Nikki! You were so [BLEEP]ing awesome! It [BLEEP]ing SUCKS that your bitch-ass boss won't let you do any more recaps!" And I'm like, "I know, right?! [BLEEP]ing politics!" So, they were all like "Nikki! [BLEEP] that [BLEEP]-ass blog that [BLEEP]ing HACK writes for and get your own web channel!" So here I am! [A beat.] HIIIIIII JUAN~!!!
Nikki: Anyway, so speaking of my bitch-ass boss, she's like TOTALLY on the rag or something 'cause she's got me doing this Angels and Amazons bull[BLEEP]. And she's not giving me any [BLEEP]ing help here! I mean, GAWD! And my own [BLEEP]ING brother blows me off when I try to ask him! What the HELL?! [She rolls her eyes.] I swear, they're like BEGGING for a [BLEEP]ing lawsuit or something. Oooh, but you gotta see this...!
[Nikki scampers off-camera for a few seconds, then comes back with a big grin and an open laptop.]
Nikki: So like, one of my fans thought it was TOTALLY UNCOOL that Miz Chambers was being a hard-ass favoritist BITCH against me 'cause she's making me do this stupid fight and everything! So he burnt me a copy of the best of Angels and Amazons and so I'm like watching it and I'm thinking "Yanno, I can TOTALLY do THIS!!!" I mean, at first I thought it was like everybody in the damn ring all at once, but it's not like that at all! And some of the loser chicks they got fighting here... [Nikki snorts.] I mean, check this out!
[Nikki presses "play" as a clip of Tesla St. James laying on a series of chops against 2009 A&A winner Erica Toughill starts to run.]
Nikki: You got all these [BLEEP]ing nobodies and has-beens going at it! Who the [BLEEP] is that cow anyway?! I mean, the other one. Tesla's like Mister Lee's [BLEEP]bunny or something...
[She cues up another clip, this one of Taylor MacKenzie eliminating Brianna Landis with a back body drop. A furious Landis then hops up back on the ring apron to illegally take out her rival in revenge...
...wait a minute...
...blissfully unaware of what she's actually watching, Nikki skips back to another clip. Wrestling legends Marissa Monet and the Lady in Red are tied up in a collar and elbow lock, jockeying for dominance.]
Nikki: See what I mean?! [BLEEP]ing has-beens! GAWD, those two are like, eighty years old each! Who let THEM out of the damn nursing home?!
[With a sneer, the Cat plays the next clip. Her sneer gets bigger when she realizes it's her former "Protege" mentor Donna Tetreault nailing fellow UWF'er Sylhouette with the Dominion Day and dumping her over the ropes after the then-rookie assisted her in getting rid of Tesla St. James.]
Nikki: Hee! So yeah, if a [BLEEP]ing reject WHORE can win this, how [BLEEP]ing hard can it be?!
[The clip freezes on a triumphant Summer Blake -- winner of the _2008_ Angels & Amazons. Nikki shuts the laptop.]
Nikki: Seeya next time! [A beat.] BYEEEEEEEEEE JUAN~!!!
[And we mercifully fade out on her spastic waving.]
[Scene opens to inside a gym.]
[We make our way through the gym and see various Japanese
women training. Some are in a ring being stretched or stretching
someone. Some are doing various excercises. But we make our
way to one particular woman who is kicking the snot out of
a heavy bag!]
[Sonoko Kobayashi, Angels and Amazons participant, and militant young
member of Team Koji. She's dressed in a green t-shirt and green sweat
pants. And she's threatening to bust this heavy bag open with her
Voice: That's enough!
[Sonoko spins angrily.. but she drops the anger in an instant when
she sees who's addressing her.]
[Sonoko bows to her stable leader, Katsura Koji. Koji is dressed in
a green dress with a thin green jacket over it and dark green dress
shoes. Koji does a small bow to Kobayashi then nods her head.]
KK: Your training goes well, like usual. But enough training for today
Sonoko. I want to talk with you.
[Sonoko nods her head.]
KK: Go clean up and then we will go for a walk.
[Sonoko again nods her head and she walks off quickly. Koji eyes the
heavy bag and then she walks offscreen.]
[We return to a bit later. Koji is sitting on a bench outside the
gym watching people walk by when Sonoko Kobayashi walks out of the
gym. She's now wearing a short sleeve green button up shirt and
blue jeans. She has green sneakers on. She hustles over to Koji
SK: My apologies for taking so long Koji-san.
[Koji nods her head then stands up. Both women bow to one another
and then they begin walking.]
KK: As you know Angels and Amazons is coming up.
[Sonoko nods her head.]
KK: We have the Stable Wars match, you have the Rumble. I am very
pleased to see you have been attending to your training on your
own for this venture. That shows dedication and loyalty. However
you do in the Rumble you have already made us proud Sonoko.
[Kobayashi looks emotional.. for maybe a second. She quickly
squelches that though and just nods her head.]
SK: Thank you Koji-san.
KK: If you can perform better than that lazy Honda from Team Love
that will be even better Sonoko!
[Fire lights up in Sonoko's eyes!]
SK: I intend to! I hope I get to throw her out myself!
[Koji looks back at Sonoko and nods her head approvingly.]
KK: It's boggling why they chose her anyways!
[Sonoko nods. Koji looks forward again.]
KK: I would have chosen Meiko Yamazaki myself. She's bigger than
any of us. She's scary strong. That spinning capture suplex of
hers is a legit threat! Meiko would've been the big card for
Keiko to play. Keiko is losing her touch. She didn't even choose
Megumi Kosaka! Kosaka is almost Keiko's clone and has already
held the pink belt. Why would Keiko choose the laziest member of
their team to compete in this?
SK: Team Love are in decline Koji-san! Their leader may have the
pink belt but she probably used up what was left of her fighting
spirit in doing so! After you lead us to crush them in the Stable
Wars match and I toss their refuse out of the rumble they will
collapse! Victory will be ours!
[Koji thinks about all of this for a bit.]
KK: So far Keiko has been like a cockroach. Seemingly able to
survive anything, to outlast us all. Her time is coming though!
Our way of pure fighting will prevail and her and the crazy
hair and crazy make up..
[Koji motions in the air with her hand.]
KK: It will blow away like the sand carried by the wind.
[Sonoko nods affirmatively.]
KK: Sonoko.. It's very important that you do better than Honda
in this rumble.
SK: I know Koji-san!
KK: You're our most dedicated and devout team member! You can
not let Keiko's laziest member outshine you!
SK: I won't! I would rather die!
[Koji looks back and nods approvingly.]
KK: Good. Very good.
[Koji looks forward and nods her head.]
KK: In war we can show no mercy!
SK: At Angels and Amazons, no mercy will be shown!
[They both nod their heads and walk offscreen. The scene fades.]
[A woman and a man stand facing one another. There is a space of about
four feet between them. They are in a wood-panelled hall and are
standing on a light brown mat. The woman, of course, is Xenia Sonova,
her dark hair tied back in a ponytail. Unlike the last time we saw
her, this time, she is clad in a judogi, all white, except for the
black belt. The young man opposite her is dressed in a similar attire.
He, however, is not 5' 5" and looks like he weighs at least twice
Sonova's weight. The two combatants bow to each other, then open up
into their fighting stance. The man comes at Sonova with a palm
thrust, which she sidesteps, as she grabs his arm, turns around,
pushes her back under him and throws him over with an ipponzei. He
lands with a thud on his back. Sonova extends a hand, which he takes
as she pulls him up. As he gets back to his feet, the young man rubs
his shoulder and shakes out his arm. With a smile, Sonova playfully
dusts him off. They go back to their starting marks and go at it
[Sonova drops him again as the shot pulls back to reveal the
individual watching the combatants. Short black hair, light brown
skin, slightly rotund figure, dressed in a black tank top and dark
blue jeans, he has his arms folded in front of him. He turns his body
slightly so that he can address the camera while still keeping an eye
on the two combatants. It is Louis Matsui.]
LM: It seems almost a shame that the camera time leading up to the
Angels and Amazons supercard should be spent listening to me, some
guy, instead of a competitor like Xenia Sonova. Anyone who knows Louis
Matsui knows he respects and admires a woman who speaks up for
herself. But Xenia doesn't like to talk. Xenia prefers to let her
actions speak for her, and that is exactly what she is going to do in
the Rumble; that is what she is going to say many times over as she
throws her opponents one after another over that top rope. Each time
she does it, it'll let them know, "Xenia Sonova is BETTER than you!"
It's a simple message, anyone could have delivered it for her.
[The young man tries to hit a front kick, but Xenia Sonova grabs his
leg, then sweeps his other leg from under him, causing him to fall to
the mat with a loud splat. Again, she helps him up, smiling as she
does so. Sonova rubs the back of his head gently, then smacks it
playfully. Again, they go back to their starting mark and face off.]
LM: Which is why, while Xenia trains to do EXACTLY what the message
promises, even the worst of you who can't get a hint get to hear this
from me: Xenia Sonova, the winner of Angels and Amazons 2010 IS the
better woman. Xenia Sonova IS the SUPERIOR ATHLETE. Message...
[The shot focuses on the two combatants as the man lunges forward, his
arm extended, fist clenched. Xenia Sonova smacks it aside, causing the
man to lose his balance momentarily, while she reaches across his
chest, wraps her other arm behind him and lifts him up and slams him
back down with a uranage. She gets up and stands astride him, her arms
on her hips. She smiles down at him.]
XS: Look like tonight, dinner's on you.
[Fade to black as she steps over him and walks off.]
Overly_Critical_Jue - May 25, 2010 03:51 AM (GMT)
TOMOKO "T" HONDA
[Scene opens to the streets of Osaka, Japan. People are busy walking about
everywhere and walking through the masses are Tomoko "T" Honda and the
leader of Team Love, Suzie Love! Honda is wearing a purple t-shirt and
black jeans with white sneakers on. Love is wearing a cute, stylish looking
little black hat, a gray blouse with a thin black jacket over it and
black slacks and black dress shoes.]
[Yes Suzie Love looks alot different covering up her blue stubble and
dressed up. She doesn't have the blue eye make up and lipstick on
either. Her eyes sport a subtle smoky make up and her lips have lip
gloss on. She seems to almost shrink, her bold confidence and driving
determination appear nowhere. She looks kind of sad.]
TH: Where are we going boss?
[Honda looks around as they walk, Love smirks then shoots a glare at
SL: What is with you kids? So impatient!
[Honda now shrinks herself, being reprimanded.]
TH: Sorry boss.
[They walk for a while saying nothing, then Love slightly turns her
head towards Tomoko.]
SL: I know I usually don't do socializing things with you, Megumi and
Meiko. Lotus-chan is the trainer, I give all of you the philosophy.
[Tomoko nods her head.]
SL: People underestimate Lotus-chan because she's small and she doesn't
have the firepower that some of us do.. But she has the methods!
She has the strategy! She has heart! She's good with training, so
that's why I leave all of that to her.
[Honda nods her head again, looking a little confused as to why
Love is telling her things she knows already.]
SL: I try to instill in all of you the philosophy! Fighting to the
end! Fighting with focus! Fighting towards a goal! I try to be the
example for all of you.
[They stop at a road and wait with others to cross the street. After
they've all crossed the street, Love and Honda hang back, walking
slower, and let everyone pass them by, then Love looks back towards
SL: I try to be the role model for what is expected of you, Megumi
and Meiko! Lotus-chan gives you the knowledge, I show you how it's
used and what's expected!
[Tomoko nods her head.]
SL: Lotus-chan.. She was one of the original class of 1996 along
with me, Noa and Koji! My expectations for her are different than
the rest of you. She doesn't have the firepower to hold the pink
belt. She has made up for it by training all of you and we achieved
a dream between herself and me when we held the tag team titles!
[Love gives a look to Honda.]
SL: She doesn't have as much to prove as you three.
TH: Is something wrong with Lotus-chan, boss?
[Suzie looks surprised.]
SL: No! Why would you ask that?
TH: Well you're talking so much about her.. I was starting to think
maybe this was an outing to have me break bad news to the others.
[Love breaks into a laugh! She stops and does a hearty laugh.]
[Love regains her composure and has a smile on her face.]
SL: No.. Nothing is wrong with Lotus-chan!
[Suzie gives Tomoko a small punch upside her head! Tomoko winces
a bit but has learned not to sell small pains in front of "the boss".]
SL: I just want you to understand Lotus-chan's position is different
from the rest of you. I don't want any of you to use her as a crutch
for not meeting expectations!
[Honda gets a sad look.]
TH: Yes boss.
SL: And we use you to break bad news to the others because... Meiko
is getting pretty strong! We don't want her to hurt us!
[Honda really gets a sad look now.]
TH: Y-yes boss.
SL: ... BWAHAHA!
[Love goes into a small laughing fit.]
SL: I was joking Tomoko!
SL: You're the junior member of the team! That is why you get to
break news, both good and bad, to the others!
[This improves Tomoko's disposition!]
TH: Right, boss!
SL: ... You never seen me joke before?
[Tomoko ponders this a bit. Perhaps longer than a bit.]
SL: Hmmm.. It IS good I took you with me today!
TH: Is this a lesson in the importance of humor?
SL: Why are you kids so impatient to get to the point of things so fast?
TH: I didn't mean it like that.
SL: Some things take a while Tomoko. You should know this well!
[Love gives Tomoko a look over.]
SL: You debuted in 2006. It's now 2010 and you haven't won a title,
a trophy, a major singles match or any other big accomplishment.
SL: That's not a criticism, Tomoko. Your drive is constant, but it's
a slower pace than the others. Megumi and Meiko were constantly
picking fights with Yokoshima na Shojo, Noa, and then their fellow
rookie class members Kyoko-chan and Hikari. They didn't wait til
they were more developed in their skill and resolve. You're approach
is different. You go slower but steadier. You give your all when
fighting with us but you also don't jump into the roaring river and
[Suzie stops and in doing so it causes Tomoko to stop. Love motions
across the sky with her hand.]
SL: You don't lasso the moon and the heavens. You build a ladder
to them. You have goals but you don't rush towards them. Slowly
building to things is nothing wrong Tomoko. And thus...
[Love goes back to walking and in effect, so does Tomoko.]
SL: Have patience with this outing. We will get to where we are
going and to what we're doing in due time.
TH: Ok, boss.
SL: I'm not trying to give you a lesson on humor. I've heard all
of you cutting up before! You need no lesson on humor!
[Honda's face goes a little red.]
TH: You've heard us joke around?
SL: Around the gym and backstage I have.
SL: I don't spy on you when you go out to eat or sing karoake or
what have you!
[Honda looks relieved.]
TH: Of course not, boss!
SL: Lotus-chan has been a habitual karoake freak the entire time
I've known her! Probably since way before then! And she's passed
it on to all of you!
TH: It's fun, boss!
SL: I've done karoake before! I know what it is! One time.. when
we were all training.. Lotus-chan, Noa, Koji and me all went to
do the karoake at Lotus-chan's insistence.
[Tomoko's mind seems blown!]
TH: You did things with Koji?!
[Love gives Tomoko a look.]
SL: I've known Koji longer than anyone else in this business! We
come from here..
[Love motions around, meaning the city of Osaka, Japan.]
SL: We went to school together.
TH: Is that why she calls you "Keiko"?
[Love looks annoyed.]
SL: Yes. She acts like I chose the name "Suzie Love" or something!
[Love stops and turns to Tomoko, Honda has a look on her face
suggesting she wishes she hadn't brought this up.]
SL: When we were being prepared for our debuts, the JPWF gave
Noa the Mosura Hitomi gimmick, gave Lotus-chan the Lotus Flower
gimmick, and gave me the Suzie Love gimmick! They thought it
would make us easier sells to overseas, in America. They wanted
to appeal to that market. Koji isn't immune herself you know!
They gave her the green color scheme!
[Honda nods her head.]
SL: But I don't call Koji, "red" because that was her real favorite
color do I? I don't call Lotus-chan "Chihauru" because that's her
name do I? No! Where is the logic in constantly calling me "Keiko"?
I know what my name is! I don't need her to remind me for over a
[Tomoko sheepishly nods her head. Then Love turns around and
commences walking again and Honda follows.]
SL: I call Noa "Noa" because she dropped the Mosura Hitomi
gimmick! We called her Mosura when she had the gimmick!
[Honda nods her head.]
SL: Koji.. She makes me so mad! I was telling you about that
Karoake thing! We were in training, Lotus-chan insisted we all
go out to the karoake bar.. We go. Lotus-chan gets up there and
sings first, you know how she sings. We all clap and cheer. Noa
goes next, she sings pretty well. We clap and cheer. I get up
there and sing.. It goes however it goes. Lotus-chan and Noa
clap and cheer, Koji just looks angry! Koji gets up there, she
does the exact song I did, trying to show me how it's done! We
all clap and cheer. But the whole night, she sang any song I
sang, trying to show me the proper way in how it's done.. We end
up arguing! Then we're pushing each other! Noodles and stuff are
going everywhere! We get kicked out of the bar. Lotus-chan cries,
Noa comforts her while Koji and me argue some more!
[Tomoko nods, thinking this is how she saw it happening in her head.]
SL: Koji has always been competetive towards me! When we were
in school.. We were put together to play table tennis against
one another.. It was like the longest game of table tennis I've
ever played in my entire life!
[Love moves her hands around as she talks.]
SL: I tried to lose the game on purpose because it was going on
so long! Everyone was watching us play, I just wanted it to end!
Koji, she would throw match points away on purpose and bring us
back to deuce just so she could keep it going! Then I'm mad, she's
mad, we're playing as hard as possible in never ending deuce,
advantage, deuce, advantage..
[Suzie angrily waves her hands around in the air, trying to
dispel the memory of the game away.]
TH: So you didn't really hang out with Koji in a friendly
[Love's anger fades into a sadness.]
SL: Sometimes we were friendly. Our mothers were friends for
sure when we were younger. I tried to be friendly plenty of
TH: You won't be friendly come Angels and Amazons!
[Honda does a fist pump and Suzie frowns at her.]
SL: Tomoko we're not here to talk about that.
SL: You just got me off track with the questions!
TH: Sorry, boss.
[Love waves it off with her hand and they walk in silence for
a while. Tomoko looks around as the scenery changes and they
pull away from the busy parts of Osaka and go into quieter
neighborhoods. Suzie looks deep in thought then she turns her
head slightly towards Honda.]
SL: I.. I use to have a fantasy a few years ago. About when
my career was over. That Koji and me would get together for
tea and talk about our battles and laugh at one another.
[Honda's jaw is dragging against the ground now! She wasn't
SL: I told her about it once.
[Love's voice seems very quiet. Honda is stunned.]
TH: What.. What did she say?
[They walk for a while in silence. Then Suzie begins to slow
her walk, and of course Honda follows suit.]
SL: She said she hates me. That in no way would she ever in her
life have tea with me when our careers were over.
[Tomoko's surprise is less from what Suzie says but from how
she says it! Her voice breaking, her eyes watering up. Tomoko
was not prepared for this!]
SL: *sniffles* It made me cry.
[Honda is FLOORED by all of this! Silence goes on for some time
as they walk ever slower before Tomoko has regained her composure.]
TH: When did this happen?
[Silence. Then the walking stops and Love turns towards some gates.
SL: .. At my mother's funeral.
[Love motions to the cemetery.]
SL: We're here.
[She walks through the gates and Tomoko follows behind, almost in
TH: She.. She said this at your mother's funeral?
SL: She wasn't being disrespectful Tomoko. She was very fond of my
mother. Our mothers had been friends. Koji.. was honest. She didn't
say she hated my mother. She hated... She hates me.
[They approach a tombstone and Suzie motions for Tomoko to be quiet,
which draws a stunned nod. Then Love kneels down in front of the
tombstone and does the sign of the cross. She puts her hands together
and prays for a while. Honda watches quietly but in shock. After a
while Suzie makes the sign of the cross again, puts her hand to her
lips, kisses it, then touches the tombstone with the hand. Then she
pulls out a letter from her jacket and places it on the tombstone.
She bows and then stands up and looks at the tombstone sadly for
[Love then gives a look towards Tomoko and notices Honda trying to
cover up her stunned expression.]
SL: You didn't know I was Catholic?
SL: It's not that surprising. They have a large archdiocese here in
[Tomoko nods again. Love looks back at the tombstone.]
SL: I write letters to my mother. The brain says it's futile. My
mother can't read them. But my heart..
[Love touches her chest.]
SL: I can't let go of my mother. So I try to communicate. Because
I'm human Tomoko.
[Suzie turns towards Tomoko.]
SL: I wanted you with me today Tomoko because I wanted to teach you
about this. About the heart. Not the fighting heart.
[Love taps her chest again.]
SL: Your humanity. Your love. Your pain. Your dreams. Your heart.
[Honda looks emotional and confused.]
SL: You are about to do something none of us have ever done Tomoko.
You will be in a ring against the best in the world. Everyone trying
to throw each other over the top rope because they want the glory
and fame of winning Angels and Amazons. This is a huge step for you,
who have moved along so slowly up to this point.
[Love steps towards Tomoko and puts her hand on Tomoko's shoulder.]
SL: But Tomoko.. Without some purpose, some purpose within your
heart, even this can be empty. Victory is nothing, Tomoko. It is
literally nothing.. If it's not FOR something. Victory for victory,
glory for glory.. Are bottles with no content. Empty bottles.
[Suzie nods at Tomoko.]
SL: You get no sustenance from an empty bottle Tomoko. I am proud
and honored that you are representing Team Love in such an important
event Tomoko. But don't lose the intentions in your heart. Don't
get caught up in glory and victory. Fight for your purpose. Even if
you fail.. You win when you fight for your heart Tomoko.
[Suzie puts her hands to her side and does a small bow to Tomoko
then nods her head. Tomoko nods her head and then stands there
soaking everything in. Love turns back to look at her mother's
SL: The heart Tomoko. Never lose sight of your heart.
[Silence. And then..]
TH: I want to be "T-Honda".
[Love looks over at Tomoko.]
TH: When you had the blonde hair and the blue outfits, during
your first few years in the JPWF. I was a big fan and.. I use to
fantasize about being "T-Honda".. A character in my head that
I hadn't quite figured out how they look. I knew purple was
involved, but that was about it. It became my dream to one
day stand in the ring with you as Suzie Love and T-Honda.
Until I earn the right to become "T-Honda"... I can't
make that dream come true.
SL: What would it take for you to earn the right?
TH: I.. I'm not sure. I just know that I'll know it when I
[Love ponders this for a while then nods her head.]
SL: Fight for your dreams Tomoko.
[Tomoko nods her head. Love bows again to Tomoko and Honda
bows deeper towards her elder. They both straighten up. Love
turns to her mother's tombstone again, bows and then she nods
at Tomoko and the two of them walk away towards the gates and
the scene fades.]
[The scene opens to a park bench overlooking the Boston Harbor. Ships can be seen off in the distance both large and small, as well as sail boats, and other watercraft vessels. The sun fading away into the horizon, leaving the sky a pink hue casts a picturesque scene almost made for a postcard. On the bench we can see the back of a woman sitting casually, just staring across at the water. As the camera pans around the woman looks up from her intent focus of the water, smirking and shaking her head. Her left arm resting across the park bench, she motions with her right hand tossing it dismissively into the air almost saying "Let's get this over with."]
Kaylee Turner: So after hearing my fellow competitors talk on and on and on needlessly about things ranging from past events in federations that people either don't care about or never heard of to pictures of daughters it was about as exciting as watching paint dry. The women in this competition fail to realize the most basic fundamental component in this match...it's not about you. Nothing is about you in this match. You can whine about finishing second last year. You can talk about how you've improved and traveled the world winning titles and accolades and all that means exactly the same when you add it all up: ZERO.
[She shifts on the park bench, hunching over her hands clasped together before looking back up at the camera]
Kaylee Turner: This back and forth sitcom humor with guys, girls, and animals that nobody has any interest in outside of yourselves? It's not getting you anywhere come the night when your only goal is to be the last woman standing. I'm going to kick these crutches out from under you because it's quite clear a lot of you ladies need someone...something around you to make you seem interesting, to make you seem viable. I think I speak for most of the people when I say it's pretty played out and tired.
Kaylee Turner: There's all these old-school, has beens and never-weres that think they can just show up, toss their boots into the ring and the match will be theirs. They don't want to work for it. They want to be comedians, talk about things that are more irrelevant than Vanilla Ice. They want to do everything BUT acknowledge the situation they're all in. I'm not going to gaurantee a win because there's so many variables in this match it's crazy to think you've got any upperhand at all, experienced be damned. The one thing I will guarantee is that I'm going to cause havoc win or lose. Whether I enter the ring first, tenth, or thirtieth my mindset is going to remain the same: avoid getting thrown out and toss bitches out like yesterday's news. Pretty simple, right? When you hear the other women talk, they're hitting on every subject but the rumble. That works fine for me, because since I signed on to be a part of this thing, my mind has been focused on doing whatever is in my control to win this thing.
[Standing up off the bench, she walks down to the seawall which the water slowly crashes against. Bending over, she picks up a rock and skips it across the water. After four of five skips it comes to a stop and dies in the water, leaving circles of the first skips behind for a second or so.]
Kaylee Turner: Whatever I do, I do to win. This type of match isn't my first choice due to so many of the circumstances being out of my control. However, that won't deter me from showing up and putting as many bitches in their place as possible. That place being over the rope and on their asses. Win or lose, the one thing that's going to be said about Kaylee Turner after this match?
...she made one hell of an impact.
[The camera fades in... to see a Best Buy counter, with a power-downed laptop computer on it, being examined by a technician. As the camera pans back, we see in front of the counter, Scottie Saratoga, dressed in jeans and a red blouse. And she doesn't look happy.]
Technician: We can have it repaired in 24 hours...
SS: Do it. I'm behind on my deadline.
[As the technician takes the computer back, Scottie shakes her head and addresses the camera]
SS: It's hard to write a recap when your computer is broken. I'm already in hot water for letting Nikki the Cat [She makes quote marks with her fingers] "write" the last recap, which was a trainwreck. Now I'm late this week- the way things are going, I'll end up fired from my recapping gig. So, as you can probably guess, I'm NOT in a good mood.
[Scottie exhales upwards, sending her bangs dancing.]
SS: But being in a bad mood might help with the Angels and Amazons Battle Royale. I'm not the biggest wrestler there- that'd be the Goblin Queen. I'm not the fastest- just a guess, but I'd go with Miyuki Ozaki there. I don't have the 'glamour' of a Keisha Love or an Eveline Ericksen, and while I can handle myself in a fight, I don't need to prove it in bar brawl like Stark and Brown.
[Scottie starts tapping her fingers on the countertop.]
SS: I'm not a reality star, a second-rate science experiment like Sonova, a third-rate model like Holly Oakes, or a fourth-rate whatever-the-hell-she is Nikki the Cat. What I am is a wrestler, a very good one. And I will go through anyone to win the Angels and Amazons- a rookie like Ayaki Fujiwara and a veteran like Tesla St. James.
Because I am Scottie Saratoga.
And I am a winner.
[The camera fades out]
texanspaniard - May 25, 2010 04:56 AM (GMT)
An open letter to Bob Morris.
If any one thing happens in this year's Angels and Amazons, it must.. MUST be.. Ayako hiding behind Goblin Queen and german suplexing women! THIS MUST HAPPEN! Please consider it! Thank you for your time!
ratrangerm - May 25, 2010 05:19 PM (GMT)
|QUOTE (texanspaniard @ May 25 2010, 04:56 AM)|
| An open letter to Bob Morris. |
If any one thing happens in this year's Angels and Amazons, it must.. MUST be.. Ayako hiding behind Goblin Queen and german suplexing women! THIS MUST HAPPEN! Please consider it! Thank you for your time!
So is that Terry's strat? :)
Overly_Critical_Jue - May 25, 2010 05:23 PM (GMT)
I was leaning more in favor for the "hide a shiv in her boot" strat, but if there's fan support for "use Goblin Queen as a human shield" now, I'm going to need to think it over. :unsure:
RedRajah - May 25, 2010 05:53 PM (GMT)
*strats to sit on everybody*
Overly_Critical_Jue - May 25, 2010 06:00 PM (GMT)
It's virtually impossible to sit on a highly motivated Japanese woman!
crimsonjoe - May 25, 2010 06:02 PM (GMT)
Even if done by a highly motivated bigger Japanese woman?
Overly_Critical_Jue - May 25, 2010 06:05 PM (GMT)
Obviously whoever's *more* motivated will win out in the end.