(THE SCENE: The Hoss Dojo Training Complex, where in addition to the theoretical stars of tomorrow literally learning the ropes, the stars of today (but mostly yesterday) make use of the facilities throughout the day to stay sharp between shows. It’s open 24 hours a day, not so much by design as because Ol’ Ross Gracie always forgets to lock the place up when he leaves. At an ungodly early hour, two wrestlers have the place all to themselves: Disgraced-and-then-somewhat-re-graced former world’s champion ACE LA GRANGE and his unwitting protege, the size-impaired ZIPPITY DUDA, who is seemingly being forced to run back and forth between the ropes until he dies.)
ACE: C’mon, Zip! You’re draggin’ ass out there, brother!
ZIP: (breathing extremely hard) Because I’ve been doing this forever! And you stopped ten minutes ago!
ACE: Seniority, brother! I set my own pace.
ZIP: Why-Why am I doing this anyway? I know how to run the ropes!
ACE: It builds character, brother!
ZIP: I have enough character! And I think I’m about to puke!
ACE: Ah, shit, better stop then. I don’t remember where Ol’ Hoss keeps the mop bucket.
(ZIP stops running and collapses in a heap on the mat)
ACE: That was piss-poor, brother, piss-poor. But it shows improvement, and that’s what matters.
ZIP: I- (wheezing) I hate you.
ACE: Look, brother, I gotta be honest with you. In all this time since I took you under my wing-
ZIP: (between dry-heaves) Two weeks. It’s… Been… Two weeks.
ACE: Look, the time span doesn’t matter, brother. The important thing, brother, is that since I’ve gotten close to you, you know brother, it’s like you’re the son I never had.
ZIP: (leaned against the corner, with his head down between his knees) But… Ace, you DO have a son.
ACE: Yeah, but he’s the son I DID have, brother, this is different. You’re like, I dunno… Bonus-son.
ZIP: What’s the point of this? The point of any of this!?
ACE: Listen brother, the point here, brother… Listen, let me give you some advice. Your whole problem is that you don’t have a realistic, tangible goal, brother. You’re too focused on this whole nonsense with your mom wishing you were like… A full-sized dude, brother.
ZIP: And what would a realistic goal be?
ACE; Easy, brother! Cruiserweight title. Shit, that Fang guy, what is he, anyway? Like 200 pounds? If that, even? Dude’s a freakin’ little twerp, brother. You should be able to whip him, easy.
ZIP: He’s still got like sixty pounds on me, Ace.
ACE; The point stands, though! Brother, the gold, man, it’s everything, it’s what this is all about!
ZIP: But Ace… You work for a company that apparently can’t afford a heavyweight title belt. Are you saying you have no goal being here?
ACE: Well, brother, you know… I got my sights set higher.
ZIP: What, then? A second shot at that SWA contract you turned down 20 years ago? Because I don’t wanna sound mean, but that ship may have sailed…
ACE: What? No, brother! Bigger than that. Brother, this is embarrassing but… You know…
ZIP: What?
ACE: (Looking wistfully into the distance) I’m… I’m gonna get her back, brother.
ZIP: (visibly uncomfortable) Oh, Ace… Jeez, I dunno…
ACE: I got a vision, though, brother, a plan. All I gotta do is show her that I can still be the old Ace.
ZIP: But from what I’ve heard, “the old Ace” was the whole problem.
ACE: I dunno about that, brother, besides, what have you heard, anyway?
ZIP: You know, stories in the locker room, all those interviews with old wrestlers on YouTube and various podcasts…
ACE: Well, I mean, you can’t believe everything you hear, brother.
ZIP: …Both of those episodes of Dark Side of the Ring, that time you got busted on an episode of Live PD…
ACE: Well… I mean… Ya know…
ZIP: The Court TV coverage, that episode of Dateline NBC…
ACE: Okay, okay, I get it, brother.
ZIP: …Not to mention all those times I’ve walked past Yumiko in the hallway, when she’d be screaming at you over the phone about all your past transgressions…
ACE: Okay, brother, you’ve made your point, you just gotta-
ZIP: …Just yelling about how you ruined her life, and how she’d never, ever take you back under any circumstances, and she was so mad, it looked like she had demons in her eyes…
ACE: That’s enough! Look, brother… Just… Trust me, I got a plan, brother.
ZIP: I just think it’s a bad idea.
ACE: But I’m tellin’ you, brother, I got a plan.
ZIP: …Okay.
ACE: Okay.
LATER…
(After ACE and ZIP have gone, the Dojo is bustling with dozens of wrestlers, both of the trained and untrained variety. The big news of the day is that several wrestlers from Japan’s MOSES and Notoriety promotions are in town for the big TSLL debut show, and a few have stopped by for a workout, most notably the MOSES world champion and all-around face of the franchise, ĒSU TAKASHIMA, who is currently in the ring, going over a few holds with a few Dojo trainees and younger STRUGGLE wrestlers. Having already done their sparring for the day, the three stateside members of Jezebel-Gun, JEZEBEL GRIM, YUMIKO LA GRANGE, and theoretical Notoriety employee TOSHIYO NAKANO observe from a distance.)
YUMIKO: Good god, if you two do not calm down, I will make Hoss kick you out.
JEZEBEL: I’m just sayin,’ that is the most beautful goddamn man I’ve ever seen.
TOSHIYO: (in wide-eyed disbelief) And he have more stomach muscle than science allow.
JEZEBEL: For real! Motherfucker’s got a set of cum gutters on him that you could use to shred documents.
TOSHIYO: And his gaze… So steady.
YUMIKO: Did you just refer to his abdominal muscles as cu- (shudders) Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you freaks!?
TOSHIYO: Hey, she say it, not me.
YUMIKO: Jezebel, stop being gross.
JEZEBEL: How long have you known me? The point stands anyway, he’s got a physique that makes Superman look like awful dog shit, and the man is goddamn prettier than I am.
TOSHIYO: You very pretty, too.
JEZEBEL: Awwwwww!
YUMIKO: Eh, this is pro wrestling though. You see people built like that every day, such as Manchoma the Randy Savage or Skip Legday at least when he wears pants.
JEZEBEL: Yeah, well, he ain’t got Skip’s weird legs or Choma’s personal baggage. And say, if one were to get sick of him, he’ll be all the way across an ocean in about a week.
YUMIKO: (firmly) Jezebel, no. Do not even think about it.
JEZEBEL: I dunno what you’re smoking, dude, but I see very few arguments against here.
YUMIKO: Well, if nothing else, he more than likely has a girlfriend already.
TOSHIYO: …Or boyfriend. Good ones always do.
JEZEBEL: Dammit, woman. Just because your ex-husband ended up being into dudes, it doesn’t mean everybody is. And I don’t even care if he’s into barnyard animals, I’m still gonna shoot my shot.
YUMIKO: Jezebel, no! You do not know what you are getting into! Listen. I get it. A tall, handsome, upsettingly-muscular man from an exotic and far-away land enters your life. And before you know it, you are whisked away into a fantasy world of sex and drugs and partying and sex and fame and money and sex and personal success and just so much sex, but then what?
JEZEBEL: Ain’t seeing the negative here.
YUMIKO: (leaning in close) …And the next thing you know, you are sitting in a dark room, pregnant and alone, wondering where he is, what he is doing, who is he doing it to, and how in the hell you are going to deal with a newborn child that you are not emotionally mature enough to raise! And the money is drying up, and every time the phone rings, you worry that it could be bad news from a local hospital, and THE WALLS, Jezebel! (She grabs JEZEBEL by the shoulders and starts shaking her, with a crazed look in her eyes) The walls start closing in around you! And it gets harder to breathe! And there is no air! And there is no escape! No escape at-
(Sensing some sort of aneurysm or other brain attack coming on, TOSHIYO claps her hands really loudly, right next to YUMIKO’s face, jarring her back to reality.)
YUMIKO: Oh, uhh… Sorry about that.
TOSHIYO: Uhh, I think you not talking about Jezebel anymore.
JEZEBEL: Alright. I get it. But just because shit went south for you, it doesn’t mean-
YUMIKO: Do you even know what “Ēsu” means, Jezebel!? (Leaning in close, almost nose to nose) IT MEANS ACE!
(At this revelation, JEZEBEL actually gets a look of shock and horror and takes a step back)
YUMIKO: Stay away from him. For your own good.
JEZEBEL: (Looking past YUMIKO with one eyebrow raised) Gonna be kinda hard, dude. He’s coming this way.
(ĒSU TAKASHIMA approaches YUMIKO, seemingly paying no attention to the other two. Having just finished a sparring session, his thickly-muscled frame glistens with sweat, making his utter physical perfection somehow look even more impressive. His face, with its matinee-idol good looks, somehow simultaneously projects a boyish innocence, as well as a powerful masculinity, as he sets his steady gaze upon YUMIKO’s face. Also, from here on out, anything inside <these little bracket thingies> is translated from Japanese. Also, I’m not going to bother copy-pasting the Ē with the little thingy on top of it anymore, you’ll just have to pretend it’s there.)
ESU: <Ah, excuse me, Yumiko-sama?>
YUMIKO: <Yeah?>
ESU: <I’d just like to tell you that I’ve been a big fan of yours for many years, and that you’ve been a great inspiration for me and my career.>
(TOSHIYO starts whispering translations into JEZEBEL’s ear, who just nods along with it)
YUMIKO: <Yeah, good. Okay.>
ESU: <And well, ah, this might be a strange request, I’m very sorry…>
YUMIKO: <What is it?>
ESU: <Well, I was, ah… You see, uhhh… Well, it’s just that there’s so much I’d like to ask you, you know, about wrestling, and your career, and I was wondering if maybe sometime soon, you and I might get together sometime… To discuss… Things. I’m sorry, if this is weird.>
(TOSHIYO’s eyes get really big and she starts frantically whisper-translating at a higher speed, after which she and JEZEBEL both get the same crazy-eyed look and start waving their arms everywhere and kind of hugging each other and bouncing up and down like two junior high girls who just won tickets to see one of those Korean pop groups. For her part, YUMIKO mostly has no reaction whatsoever.)
YUMIKO: <Well, I dunno, I, uhh… Well, you see, I’m very busy this week, with the dojo, and all. Uhh… Look, let me check my schedule, and I’ll try to get back with you on this soon, okay?>
ESU: <Thank you so much! It is no no trouble if you can not, but thank you for your consideration, and I, ah… Well, I need to go now, thank you, and it has been an honor to finally meet you!>
YUMIKO: <Well, uhh, alright then.>
(ESU leaves with a group of other MOSES wrestlers, looking back a few times before they exit the building. JEZEBEL and TOSHIYO immediately rush forward to discuss the new developments)
JEZEBEL: DUDE! Do you even realize what just happened!? You just pulled the fuckin’ Golden Ticket!
YUMIKO: Calm down. He is a fan, whatever. Olive Japan Women was in reruns for years after I left, and STRUGGLE had an international TV deal for about a year before it all went to shit. That is it. Nothing more.
JEZEBEL: Bullshit! Listen, I know young dudes, Yumiko.
TOSHIYO: Heh. Think you’ve known quite a few.
JEZEBEL: Quiet, you. But anyway, that was not the look of a wrestler meeting one of his role models and wanting to discuss the finer points of the fuckin’ collar-and-elbow tie-up! That was the look of an eighth-grader who holds you in a place of high esteem in his mental spank bank, who is now all grown up-
TOSHIYO: …And impossibly chiseled –
JEZEBEL: …And now he’s trying to seize an opportunity he never thought he’d get! Dude, you can not throw away a gift from God like that!
YUMIKO: God damn it, just no. You can have all the weirdo fantasies that you want, but just no. For fuck’s sake, that man is in his early twenties! He is practically a child!
JEZEBEL: My point exactly! Look, at some point, you’re gonna have to just face reality here, and embrace your role in the ecosystem, Yumiko!
YUMIKO: What are you talking about, and how do I already know that it is fucking gross?
JEZEBEL: Listen to me here. Yumiko, you’re old.
YUMIKO: Thank you for noticing, asshole.
JEZEBEL: Let me finish! You’re old, but you’re still kinda hot. You know, if you’re not really a butt or a boob man, I guess. I mean, let’s face it, you’re kind of the mathematical opposite of curvy-
TOSHIYO: …You make me look like Lorelei.
JEZEBEL: But the face is still way up there, top notch.
YUMIKO: I… Have never felt so damned by faint praise before.
JEZEBEL: You’re welcome. But see, here’s the deal: Someday, that Esu kid? He’s gonna meet a girl – an age appropriate one, in all likelihood – and they’re gonna get together, buy a house, maybe have kids, all that good shit, and he’s gonna live happily ever after. But what about her?
TOSHIYO: Things fine at first, but then follow years of unfulfilled nights, tossing and turning, upon dry-ass sheets.
YUMIKO: God damn it, I knew this would take a turn somewhere…
JEZEBEL: And some day, that beautiful marriage will fall apart into misery and ruin, unless – Oh, I dunno…. Maybe, perhaps… Someday before he meets this person, he meets someone else… Perhaps an attractive, older woman, with experience, who can take him aside…
TOSHIYO: …And teach him things.
YUMIKO: Oh my god, no, no, no, just… NO. STOP. Listen, here is what will happen: I will pretend to forget our conversation ever happened, and then I will be all “oh no, so sorry, must have slipped my mind,” and he will go back to Japan, away from me, and more importantly, away from both of you perverts, forever. End of discussion.
TOSHIYO: But it your destiny!
JEZEBEL: You could the Mayor of Cougar-Town! Hell, you’d be the fuckin’ God-Empress!
YUMIKO: Fucking weirdos. I am leaving now. (she starts to walk off)
TOSHIYO: Who you to deny boyhood dream!?
(YUMIKO leaves, as they both shake their heads in disbelief)
JEZEBEL: Disgraceful.
TOSHIYO: Utterly.
LATER STILL…
(Owing to their tendency to start shit with the other wrestlers and therefore not get anything done, the five in-ring representatives of THE EVIL ADMINISTRATION have chosen to make use of the Dojo at a much later hour, starting just after sunset. Without good guys and do-gooders for STRUGGLE Pro’s resident super-villains to harrass, things go more or less uneventfully, aside from a few tense moments between AGENT BULLDOG and the person that’s generally assumed to be her effective replacement within the team, reigning Women’s Champion BECKY WITH THE EVIL HAIR. Cooler heads have prevailed, however, mostly due to threats of intense violence from STRUGGLE’s de facto Final Boss, (And as of late, at least a mini-boss in Warrior Pro) PRESIDENT EVIL. The Invisible Backstage Camera footage begins just as things are winding down)
PRESIDENT EVIL: Alright, dickheads. Good workout. Could be better, but still good. And remember what we went over: Fang, when you and Bulldog get in that TSLL lucha-ish battle royal thingy, remember the strategy we discussed.
AGENT FANG and AGENT BULLDOG: (together) Go for the eyes.
EVIL: And…?
FANG AND BULLDOG: And balls, if they’ve got any.
EVIL: Right. And Becky, remember, you’ve got the next show off, because Stormy threw a bitch fit backstage, and the brass caved and gave her a number one contender’s match. So remember what I told you.
BECKY: …If I decide to attack the winner after the match, do it in the ring.
EVIL: Exactly, makes more of a public statement, plus it gets around any legalities if you do serious damage. And ahh, 35… You’re not booked anywhere, so I guess just try to not walk into an open manhole or get hit by a car or some shit.
AGENT 35: Trained my whole life not to, boss.
EVIL: Right, whatever. Anyway, good talk, so now everybody get the fuck out of here, before Hoss wakes up and actually decides to lock the doors for once. Dismissed.
(FANG, BULLDOG, BECKY, and 35 all start to leave)
EVIL: Actually, Fang? You stay for a minute. I need to talk to you about something.
FANG: What? Oh, okay. (to everybody else) Later, guys.
BECKY: Eh, whatever.
35: Bye, bitch!
BULLDOG: See you tomorrow, Fang.
(FANG’s less-than-steady gaze noticeably follows BULLDOG as she makes her exit, as the PREZ folds his arms and nods, knowingly)
EVIL: Yep, there it is.
FANG: Do what now?
EVIL: Okay, look. Fang? We’ve known each other for a couple of years now. And I’m not gonna lie, in the last couple years, I’ve developed a certain fondness for you guys. A real bond, you know? in many ways, I’d like you’re like the son I never had.
FANG: But… You do have a son, sir.
EVIL: Yeah, but he’s the son I DID have. Try to keep up here, dumbass.
FANG: Sorry, sir.
EVIL: What I’m getting at here is, uhhh…. Look, I’m gonna ask you a really personal question. And I would say you didn’t have to answer, but I’m the fuckin’ President, so you totally do have to answer.
FANG: Okay, right. What’s the question, sir?
EVIL: (sighs) Okay, here goes. Fang… My dear, sweet, baby boy… When the fuck are you finally going to sack up and ask that girl out?
FANG: I-uhh-I–I-Uhhh, I don’t-Uhhhh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
EVIL: Oh, fuck you, Fang. It’s obvious. Ever since the failed tag team experiment. Before, even. I’m talking years now. And don’t think I didn’t just see you stare a second hole in Bulldog’s ass just then.
FANG: I-What!? No! No, you see, I-I-I-Uhh… You know…. I was just, like… Looking at her ass. It’s a good ass, sir.
EVIL: Just drop the act, Fang. That was not the look of a Young Dude sneaking a peek at a coworker and harboring secret fantasies of doing butt stuff. That was the look of an eighth-grader who’s about to die of utter humiliation when the Study Hall teacher finds and reads the shitty poems he wrote about the head cheerleader in front of the class. You’re crazy about that weirdo, for some reason.
FANG: Well, you know, it’s just, you know, we’re around each other a lot, you know…. And like.. I dunno. Nobody said anything about doing butt stuff, though, I dunno where you got that from.
EVIL: Eh, come on, it’s okay. Look, I was a Young Dude once, and I know how the mind of a Young dude works, and I wasn’t even raised by the Internet, like you freaks. Every Young dude thinks about it sooner or later. Seriously, it’s okay.
FANG: Well, I mean… You know… I guess I wouldn’t turn it down, or anything…
EVIL: Ha! Always knew you were a fuckin’ pervert!
FANG: What!? You just said it was okay!
EVIL: Okay for you maybe, Mister Filthy McNasty. Sure, nothing’s off limits for Ol’ Backdoor Joe over here!
(FANG frowns in furious anger, while PRESIDENT EVIL just loses his shit completely and starts laughing his ass off)
EVIL: Hahahahaha! Oh man! The look- Hahaha – The look on your face right now, hahaha, it’s priceless! Haaaa-hahahaha.
FANG: (Frowns even harder)
EVIL: Hahahahahaha-ooh man, I can’t- Hahahaha, I can’t breathe, you just- Hahahahahahahaha, you, you, hahahaha, hoooo,Jesus, I can’t catch my breath, you just look so… Hah ha… Hooo.. Oh… Hah ha… Uh… Oh. Huh huh.. Hooo… Oh. Uhh…. You’re really mad, aren’t you?
FANG: (Frowns so very hard)
EVIL: Okay… (catches breath) Listen to me, though. You can’t just bottle that shit up. Before you know it, it could be too late.
FANG: And how would you know?
EVIL: Just trust me, I’d know. And I mean seriously, you work in pro wrestling. You’re surrounded by other Young Dudes who make up for their lack of brains or personality by developing their ability to look good in their underwear. What’s going to happen if you keep dicking around, and someone like Manchoma beats you to the punch? Or Skip, when he’s got really baggy pants on? And I mean, you can’t compete with that, with this whole skinny-fat thing you’ve got going on.
FANG: Hey! I’m a highly-trained athlete!
EVIL: …In the gym, maybe. Abs are made in the kitchen.
FANG: Yeah, well, I don’t see any abs on you lately, sir.
EVIL: Yeah, well, I’m neither single nor ready to mingle. And your garbage body won’t matter either way if you never even say anything. While you’re at home, just having thoughts. I mean, hell, you’re not the only one spending time around the girl, anyway. What’s going to stop Agent 35 from weaseling his way in there?
FANG: Oh, come on! 35 is an asshole!
AGENT 35: (who has never actually left and has been right there the entire time) It’s true, I am.
EVIL: Yeah, maybe, but he’s a charming asshole.
AGENT 35: Also true.
EVIL: See? And if you keep your mouth shut, he’s the next closest option!
AGENT 35: And I’m really into butt stuff, too!
(extremely awkward pause)
FANG: Okay, fine… Next time she’s around, I’ll, like… You know… Say something, I guess.
EVIL: you don’t sound confident. Look, you’re the Cruiserweight Champion! The Number Two Guy around here! Fuckin’ act like it!
FANG: Okay, okay, it’s just… You know… what if she says no?
EVIL: You be a fuckin’ adult and move on. Happens to everybody.
AGENT 35: I get rejected constantly!
(EVIL and FANG both look at each other, knowing they could say something, but choosing to not respond, for once)
EVIL: Just… You know… (sighs) Look, I didn’t wanna do this… But I need to tell you guys a story… A long time ago, like damn near twenty years now, there was a young masked professional wrestler, an incredibly smart, sexy, strong, brave, and secretly handsome fellow named Lieutenant Governor Justice.
AGENT 35: …Which was you.
EVIL: Are you the one telling the fuckin’ story? Jesus… Anyway… Yeah, so I was a real lame-ass, running with a whole literal family of similarly lame asses. But there was this girl, you see, the daughter of The Good LG‘s mentor, and her name was Justine.
FANG: Justine Justice, right.
EVIL: Fuck’s sake, stop interrupting! But yeah. Ad you see, this kid LG – WHICH, YES, THAT WAS ME, DON’T FUCKING SAY ANYTHING – he harbored certain feelings for this girl, but much like Fang here, he too had problems expressing these feelings. And years passed, and he kept almost saying something, but then before he knew it? Some other shithead swooped in, and poof, she was gone.
AGENT 35: Not really, though.
EVIL: What!?
FANG: Yeah, seriously, I mean after everything, you still ended up marrying her.
EVIL: What!? No! I mean- WHO TOLD YOU THESE LIES!?
AGENT 35: Oh come on, dude, everybody knows that’s her. The First Lady‘s mask still shows like over half her face, even.
FANG: Seriously, and when she started wrestling in Japan, she even switched to wearing black and red for a minute. And shit, it was the same gear she used for a while once she put on the mask, big mystery there.
AGENT 35: And she’s got that same scar on her lower abdomen. What is that, anyway?
EVIL: Oh, she had appendicitis when she was in high school and goddammit, 35, why are you paying such close attention to my wife’s torso!?
AGENT 35: Well, you know… I mean… I was a big fan of the Justice Family, back in the day. I had a Justine Justice poster, you know… (looking wistfully into the distance) Yup. Had that poster. Back when I was about thirteen… Right there, right above my bed… When I was thirteen…
EVIL: Finish that stream of consciousness out loud, and I will gut you like a fish, 35.
AGENT 35: Fair enough.
EVIL: (sighs) Look, just don’t spread this around, okay?
FANG: What the First Lady Evil used to be Justine justice? Hell, like I said, everybody knows that. I bet the Invisible Backstage Camera won’t even have to beep any of this out. It’s not a secret, like at all.
EVIL: Yeah, well, she thinks it’s a secret, and let’s just try and maintain this comforting delusion for her, okay?
FANG: I will die in preservation of this non-secret, my liege.
EVIL: Yeah, great. But look, back to the whole point of this, yeah, we ended up together in the end, but there were some shitty years in-between that could’ve been avoided, if I hadn’t been such a chickenshit.
AGENT 35: …And you certainly wouldn’t have had to live with the knowledge for all these years that you’re Eskimo Brothers with Ace La Grange, or that he had her first.
(long, insanely awkward silence, wherein PRESIDENT EVIL stares daggers through AGENT 35, and AGENT FANG takes a few steps away from him, presumably to avoid potential blood-spray)
AGENT 35: Oh…. Oh God…
EVIL: 35… I… I am going to forget you said any of that. I’m going to forget it, because otherwise, I would have to literally murder you, and with Fang as a witness, I’d have to kill him too, and I actually like him.
FANG: Also, seriously, 35… Eskimo… Pretty sure you’re not supposed to say that anymore.
AGENT 35: Really?
EVIL: Yeah, I read that somewhere too, don’t remember the specifics, though.
FANG: Right, yeah… I guess it’s, you know…
EVIL: …Problematic.
FANG: Right.