Post by Press1269 on Jan 29, 2016 21:47:14 GMT
Press sat at the breakfast nook in their new apartment, nursing a cup of coffee and flipping through the pages of the New Orleans Advocate, a local paper. Youth had stepped out to get a lay of the neighborhood, which was more upscale than either of the men was used to. The fact that he was able to even say out loud that they had a breakfast nook was more than he could have ever hoped for.
They had followed the directions on the business card that Samedi had given them, which ultimately lead them to The Strand, an upscale apartment complex in down town New Orleans. Here you could choose from available apartments, their layouts named after famous celebrities, like the James Dean or the Marilyn Monroe. They ran anywhere between twenty-five-hundred and six thousand, and were way out of the men’s price range. The card, however, along with Samedi’s name, had landed them a Marlon Brando for the price of fifteen hundred a month.
The Brando was a spacious three bedroom apartment nestled in the corner of the 23rd floor. Two of the bedrooms had their own personal bathrooms with walk in closets, a large living area, medium sized dining room, and a kitchen with a breakfast nook. There was also a utility closet that came with a double decker combo washer and dryer unit. They also had a balcony that allowed them to look out over the city and get a pretty good view of the bay in all its splendor. Not only did they have a very comfortable place to lay their heads, but the complex had a pool, a gym, a few shops, and even an indoor parking garage for the Pontiac. It was more than either of the men could have hoped for, and something neither could have expected.
After their victory at the first WICKED DVD taping, they had taken home six thousand dollars, which they used to buy furniture and supply their new apartment. It was the first time in nearly a decade, with the exception of a few high profile matches in the indy’s, that they had a place that wasn’t just the bare minimum.
The third bedroom was an office/armory, where they stowed their other gear, including the large chest that contained all of their supernatural components. They had found a desk and office chair at goodwill, and a few bookshelves at the Salvation Army, making the room feel more official somehow by everything being put in a proper place. The weapons and ammunition were set up in the closet, all cleaned and separate for easy access and performance. Again, a first, considering they never really had a set up that allowed for them to easily organize their gear out in the open.
It’s a funny thing, comfort. When you don’t have it, you don’t know to miss it, but the moment you do, you can’t go back to living without it. Rather, you don’t want to. You’ll do just about anything to keep it. It becomes your greatest motivator. No one want’s to go backwards, only forwards, into the waiting arms of even more comfort. With his coffee, his paper, and his breakfast nook, Press was more determined than ever to make sure that they kept themselves firmly planted on their cushioned surroundings.
Keys could be heard fumbling at the door, and second later Youth came strolling into the kitchen with a hot pretzel in his hand. He grabbed a beer from the fridge on his way over to the table, and then plopped down at the seat opposite his partner.
He took a bite from the pretzel, and then cast Press a sidelong glance. “So, have you seen the Pure Website?”
There was a smugness to the way he asked the question, and Press regarded the young man with a wary eye. “Nooooo. Was I supposed to?”
Youth shrugged non-chalantly, and took another bite of his pretzel, using it to shield the smirk that he couldn’t hold back.
Press, starting to get slightly irritated, pulled out his phone, and clicked open his bookmarks. After a second the screen came to life with the Pure Amusement website, and there, on the opening banner, was his mug. He grunted in surprise, and then had to do a double take, when he scrolled down to a promo for the DVD that had Youth on the front. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, and looked across at his partner with a nod of approval.
He raised his coffee cup in cheers. “It appears we made an impression.” He remarked.
“Indeed, it does.” Youth replied, taking a great deal of satisfaction in what he felt was a justified victory. “Keep scrolling, it gets better.”
The distinct note of confidence in his partner’s voice sent a thrill of excitement up his spine, and he hastily scrolled down to where the next card was posted. This would be the inaugural show at the amusement park, and was a big deal for the company. He searched the opener, but didn’t see their names. The next match. The next match. There was a slight bit of panic building at the base of his skull as he continued to scroll down until he finally made it to the main event.
His eyes went wide with genuine surprise, and then looked up at Youth excitedly. “We got main event!?!”
“We got main event!” Youth reiterated, a beaming grin from ear to ear. “Looks like our stock just went up, and then some. You were right, dude. Just think about where we were in Vegas a few weeks ago, and where we’re at now that we’re back in the dirty south! I’ve been keeping in touch with Samedi, and he says things are just about complete at the Amusement Park. They had their soft opening this weekend, and will be ready to roll out the next.”
“Xayachak and Munin are moving fast. I wonder how long they’ve been planning this?”
“I bet you anything that’s the reason Munin took on the gig with EW. What better place to learn about an amusement park than a carnival. There are so many more problems that come with having to move around all the time, so if you can handle that type of atmosphere, an amusement park will be a piece of cake. Plus there’s so many attractions that a carnival just couldn’t provide. Like Knuxy’s Castle and Unreal’s Fun House. Man, this is going to be awesome! I even here that Wheeler kid talked Sam into giving him space for a skate park. I can finally take up some of my old hobbies again!”
Press leaned back in his seat, and smirked. “Maybe we ought to think about getting something going over there. Something to help generate cash flow for when we aren’t at a show. Something to consider.”
“Hell, yeah!” Youth replied. “Do you have anything in mind? I mean, everyone else’s ideas kind of fit their personalities, but if we let people in on our extracurricular, we’d have a house of horrors.”
Press raised an eyebrow, and brought his hand up to stroke his chin. “You know, kid, that’s not a half bad idea. What if we did a house of horrors, but instead of just going through and getting the crap scared out of you, you had to survive the experience. Do it with laser tag, or something. Maybe let the people who make it all the way through get a prize of some sort. I bet we could work it out with the other outfits for discounts at their shops. That way there’s no real cost to any of us.”
“Oh, man! I bet that would be epic! With all the people out there that are into Zombie Apocalypse stuff, it would be like a wet dream! We could even rig the place up with cameras, film the entire experience, and then sell them a copy at our souvenir shop.”
“That’s a real good idea, kid. We’ll need to talk to Munin about the details, but I bet it would fly. You get started on some designs, and mapping out how much everything’s going to cost. I need to try and get my mind back on business in the ring.”
“Alright, but don’t let it fake you out. I know it’s been awhile since we’ve been a part of a main event, but it’s obvious the company has faith in us to produce. Besides, it’s just Cross Recoba. I mean, it’s kind of hard to take a guy seriously when his name sounds like a sexually transmitted disease.”
Press chuckled and shook his head, while Youth just shrugged, and made his way towards the office. Youth had always been a comedian, and knew the right things to say and when to say them to make Press guffaw. Yet, he wasn’t the one who had to get the job done in this match. Sure, he was a part of it, being assigned as the guest referee, but Press was the one who would have to deal with Cross, and he didn’t take the man lightly. He hadn’t seen much of him back in EW, because quite frankly, EW wasn’t around for that long. But he knew enough about him to know that he was good. Damn good. And that was the mountain that he alone would have to climb.
*****A FEW DAYS LATER*****
The scene opens up outside of a an old ramshackle two story building in down town New Orleans with a wooden sign out front, hanging from a peg hook that reads, ‘Le Boxeur Gym’. It’s right on the corner of the street, with a billboard that runs the length of the building advertising for a KFC. Graffiti has been spray painted on the side walls at different vantage points, and someone has taken the opportunity to do a cartoon spoof of the God knocking the devil unconscious with a pair of boxing gloves. The camera moves forward, up onto the curb, up the steps, and finally through the single heavy reinforced door that marks the gym’s entrance. Inside there are multiple banners hanging from the walls for different frights, and several posters promoting bouts long past decided. Big Frank, the owner and coach of the establishment, looks up from his desk just off to the right. He’s of medium build, in his mid-forties, but you can tell even beneath the grey sweats adorning him that he’s still in pretty good shape. He makes a nodding motion towards the camera, and the scene pans around the various workout stations and boxing rings over to the far corner where The BombTrax can be seen warming up.
As the camera moves in closer, Press notices their approach, and takes a seat on a stool by the ring, while Youth continues his work on the speed bag in the background.
“Well, it looks like you guys found us.” Press remarked, nodding towards the camera. “I guess you want a few words heading into WICKED’s second show?”
The camera motions up and down in the affirmative, and Press smirks in response.
“Alright. I see you forgot your reporter, but you know, that’s just as well. No need for pesky questions and idiotic assumptions. We’ll just wing it, if that’s alright?”
Press rolls his shoulders to work out the kinks, and then crosses his arms over his chest. Youth, in the background, has stopped working over the speed bag, and is now shadow boxing against an imaginary opponent.
“So what to talk about, eh? The first show went off without a hitch, lots of twists and turns, lots of new developments. I didn’t figure when we came down to Louisiana that Munin would attach herself to anything that wasn’t going to be successful, and that has proven to be correct. People are already lining up to get tickets to the amusement park, and the Xayachak Arena is already sold out for their next show. We’ve got new signee’s on the docket, some of them even first timers, imagine that. At the end of the day all the right people showed up at all the right times to make for one hell of a show. A show, that left everyone craving for more. Including us.”
Press allowed a slight smile to escape, before launching forward.
“You see, we didn’t know what to expect when we came here, but we knew it was going to be special. We knew it was going to be something fresh, something new. It’s created a buzz that has attracted the attention of not just the local media, but the world. Through the power of the internet they have launched a campaign against the wrestling industry that demands more than just good guy versus bad guy, but actually delves into the concept that everything is open debate when you finally get to the core of the business.”
“The very nature of what we do makes us all a little egotistical. Makes us all a little over the top. Hell, we’re a regular old freak show around these parts. There are still a few familiar faces, a few nods to the old established way of doing things, but at the end of the day you can pass your carcass through a Pure event and be reborn, cleansed of all the silly things about this business that we know are nonsense.”
“But even with this new knowledge there are some questions that still remain from that old world. I’ve already heard the rumblings. Who’s with the Lady? Who’s with Xayachak? Who’s really pulling the strings?”
Press just grins, and shakes his head at the futility of it all.
“Let me make this clear. You are. That’s right, you, sitting at home, eating your Cheetos and hitting your bong. The fans always pull the strings. So color me surprised, when I saw Cross Recoba come out for all to see, and not only put one of you fans in his famed submission, but also knocked over the guy’s kid.”
Press’ grin fades, and the expression left over is a mask of disdain.
“You see, Cross, I’ve seen the money gimmick before. Hell, I’ve seen it done better than what you’re peddling. You put all your faith in the idea that those greenbacks somehow make you invincible. Untouchable. You’re gonna find out real soon just how untouchable you are, but even then, I doubt you’ll learn anything from it. Just like I figure you’re going to tell anyone that will listen that this main event we have coming up is one big job designed to punish you for your actions. That Lady Munin has it in for you after that little stunt, and that she’s just trying to destroy your good name.”
“Well, kid…” Press purses his lips, and leans towards the camera. “We don’t know who booked this thing, or their motivations, but if it’s punishment that their after, I guaran-fucking-tee you that they won’t be disappointed.”
Press stood up from his stool, and walked past the camera, leaving only the image of Youth comically shadow boxing in the background. He stops for a second, and looks over, as if noticing the camera for the first time. He sheepishly steps over, and plops down on the stool in front of the lens.
“Listen, I’m the special referee in this match. That means what I say goes. That means that I’m the head honcho. I’m the chief. I’m the sheriff. I’m the numero uno! Wait…” Youth pauses, a puzzled expression spreading across his face. “Does the Sheriff come before the Chief, or is it Chief before Sheriff? Aw, who the fuck cares! You get it. I’m the guy!”
Youth nods, resolution twinkling in his eyes. “So, Cross Recoba, you need to think long and hard about the next words that leave your mouth. You don’t want to cut down the one who’s in charge of ensuring justice and order across the Pure galaxy. God, I’m almost giddy. Maybe I should pack in the wrestling gig for a spot on the card as lead referee. I mean, this is where it’s at. PLUS, I GET TO DRESS UP LIKE A FUCKING ZEBRA!! YES!!!”
With that Youth’s exuberant jubilation can no longer be contained, and he dashes past the camera to catch up with his partner. The cameraman sets the camera down on the stool the two men had used for their promo, and with it still running, he leans against the boxing ring, and looks into the lens himself.
“You see what I mean? These people are looney tunes! How the fuck am I supposed to feel safe about my job when one looks like he might eat me for breakfast, and the other rambles like an insane person? I don’t know if I can do this anymore. If you want these guys on camera, then you deal with them.”
With that, the cameraman stood up, and walked away, leaving the camera behind until it finally cut to static. She watched the monitor for a few moments more to ensure there was nothing else near the end of the tape, and then she spun around in her chair to face her production team. They were a good crew, been through a lot, and she knew that she could only trust about half of them with the tasks that she would give them, but that would have to do. A new player had entered her arena, and I’ll be damned if she was going to allow Brandon McKay to just sweep away all of her hard work.
She was still the lead correspondent for PAW, after all. The only backstage interviewer that the company needed, and despite being threatened by Xayachak's new tramp, she was determined to be the one that brought the PAW universe their news. She was going to nip this Brandon McKay shit in the bud, and she was going to use these two asshats to do it!
Brandy Irving stood from her desk, and pointed towards the door. “Now, get out there and find me more.”
To Be Continued…..
