(THE SCENE: Having entered SUPER-CRISIS MODE following a fan’s lawsuit following War Party 2021, STRUGGLE two main dudes backstage, NATE RUGGLE and UNCLE ABDUL have begun a desperate and potentially futile search for a money mark to keep the doors open. In spite of everything, thanks to the efforts of people-person PAM FROM HUMAN RESOURCES, they’ve actually gotten several meetings scheduled with potential investors. However, when PAM enters the office, she looks rather upset. )
NATE: Oh hey, Pam, is someone here early?
PAM: Aw jeez, hon. none of the scheduled appointments have actually shown up yet, but well, he was really insistent, and-
PEPPY WRIGHT: I demand to speak to the high command at once!
NATE: Aw, hell.
PAM: Yyyyeah, he just kinda forced his way past me.
ABDUL: PEPPY! Get the hell outta here, you don’t work here anymore!
PEPPY: Wrong! My termination was false and unlawful! Crimes were committed! Sad!
ADBUL: You didn’t even have a contract! You had a handshake, per-appearance deal, and you’re not being asked to appear anymore. And your fuckin’ handshake was all sticky…
PEPPY: That is false! A lie told by the media, at the command of their parenthesis-parenthesis-parenthesis, globalist, close parenthesis-parenthesis-parenthesis, masters!
NATE: Did he just say the internet Nazi parentheses thing… Out loud?
PEPPY: I have a contract and it is valid! I will pursue this to the highest court in the land!
ABDUL: Peppy, if you don’t get your wide ass outta here, all you’re gonna pursue is a proctologist, to get my foot outta your ass!
NATE: (sighs) Pam, do you think you could… You know…
PAM: Way ahead of ya there, hon.
(PAM casually approaches PEPPY and effortlessly hoists him up over one shoulder, as though he weighed about two hundred pounds less than he actually does. As she walks him out toward the exit, he kicks his legs and screams like a toddler)
PEPPY: This is an outrage! I have rights! This is Marxism! Immigrants! The packets!
(With a screaming of buzz-words, the dinging of door chimes and the loud thud of an obese human body hitting pavement, PEPPY is removed from the scene, and PAM returns shortly after)
NATE: Thank you, Pam.
PAM: Oh, think nothing of it, hey? There actually is someone here to see you, though, hon.
NATE: Okay, send them in.
(STRUGGLE cruiserweight wrestler and recent Hoss Dojo graduate THE GENTRIFICATOR enters, to a loud groan from both NATE and ABDUL)
NATE: So… A rookie wrestler wants to invest in the promotion?
GENTRIFICATOR: Well, not me exactly, the money would be from my parents.
ABDUL: Shocker. Sooo… What would be in this for you? What would your plans be as a financial backer of this wrestling promotion?
GENTRIFICATOR: Well, firstly, I don’t necessarily see it as a “wrestling promotion.” My plan would be to expand this operation into a multi-platform arts collective, bringing together the hearts, minds, and diverse experiences of some of the region’s finest talents.
ABDUL: So a place for your other rich, white, unemployed friends to finger paint on their parents’ dime?
GENTRIFICATOR: Sir, there is much more to my proposed expansion than just the planned adult finger painting seminars! There would be a fully-featured podcast studio, mime classes, a puppet theater, micro-microbrewery, and a space for weekly cuddle parties!
NATE: Wait, where the hell would you put all of this?
GENTRIFICATOR: Well, you see, this building has a lot of unused space, and we could get more out of it with a few renovations. Of course the size of the wrestling arena would have to be reduced to accommodate all of this. Drastically.
ABDUL: Alright, you had already said enough to make me put your ass through the wall, but come on! The place only seats a few hundred to begin with! How the hell could we afford to run a wrestling company with an even smaller home base!?
GENTRIFICATOR: Well, higher ticket prices, obviously. I mean sure, most of the locals would be priced out of being able to attend, but come on, I doubt our clientele would be able to enjoy experiencing the local culture when surrounded by so much of the local culture.
NATE: Okay, I’ve heard enough. Thanks, but we’ve decided to go in another direction.
GENTRIFICATOR: But you haven’t even heard about my proposed gender-neutral slam poetry room!
ABDUL: GET. OUT.
(THE GENTRIFICATOR leaves in a huff, mumbling something about philistines and bumpkins. Things go from godawful to somehow worse when HAPSBURG RAYTHEON VI enters, followed by his manservant/bodyguard MISTER WEI.)
NATE: No.
HR6: No one refuses Hapsburg Raytheon VI! WEI! Laugh at this man!
WEI: Ha ha ha!
NATE: We literally already refused you several months ago.
HR6: You haven’t even listened to my proposal.
NATE: …Because you already proposed it, and it was awful.
HR6: Nonsense! It was a completely generous and reasonable offer, and I can assure you, this one is even better!
ABDUL: You offered to be handed a championship belt that presently doesn’t exist, followed by you getting bored, firing everyone, selling off the company piecemeal, and killing us all with a falcon.
RAYTHEON: I said nothing of the sort! I never said that you’d be the ones hunted for sport. I merely implied it. Also, a falcon is much too small to kill a human, I imagine I’d just use one to locate you, harry you perhaps, and then I would just shoot you. Or perhaps I could employ some other creature. Predatory cat, maybe… Wei, notify my predatory cat wrangler.
WEI: It will be done at once, sir.
NATE: Oh, well when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound so bad…
HR6: Excellent! My lawyers will send over the necessary documents, and-
WEI: Sir, I believe he was being sarcastic.
HR6: Ah, sarcasm. A trait often seen in commoners.
ABDUL: Look, the answer is no. It’s always gonna be no. If you wanna be a wrestling champion, you gotta earn it. And seeing as how you walked out of your last match, I’d say you’ve got some work to do.
HR6: What!? Well, I never! Wei, destroy this man at once!
WEI: But there are witnesses, sir.
HR6: Bah! But very well. Just know that on this day, the two of you have made a very powerful enemy!
NATE: You were already our very powerful enemy, again, going back several months.
HR6: Well, I, ahh… DOUBLE ENEMIES! Wei, let us leave this disgusting place.
(HR6 and MR. WEI leave, but before NATE and ABDUL can even pause to process what just happened, all of a sudden the room is filled by the absolutely gigantic former STRUGGLE powerhouse HUMUNGULUS, who is quickly joined by fellow Think Tank member and legit cyborg CYBERTA, and finally the man himself, BRAIN GOD, THE CALCULATION MASTER.)
ABDUL: Oh, godammit…
BG: What, are you surprised to see me? After all, your tiny, insignificant outlaw promotion has suffered certain, shall we say… difficulties as of late?
ABDUL: Yeah, but why in the hell would we ever turn to you? I thought your ex-wife took everything…
BG: Well, for starters, I am a super-genius. Also, as you are well aware, ever since I escaped this hellhole, I have been running my own, incredibly successful wrestling promotion.
ABDUL: “Incredibly successful,” you say, but that ain’t the way I heard it.
NATE: Yeah, I keep hearing the dirt sheets throwing around the phrase “potentially murdered by the entire active roster” an awful lot lately.
BG: Ha! Piffle! I have cut costs by nearly 100%! And as you can see, I still clearly have the support of the entire Think Tank! By the way – silly me – I’ve just completely lost track of what’s been going on here lately; now that X and Y aren’t here to dominate your tag division, who, pray tell, are your current tag team champions?
ABDUL: Goddammit, BG…
BG: What’s that? A team from another promotion? Oh, how awful! Well, buck up, though, because at the very least, I’m sure that whoever your current heavyweight champion might be is bringing pride, honor, and prestige to this company!
ABDUL: I swear to fuckin’ God, you little bobble-headed-
NATE: Just stop, both of you. Is there a point to any of this, or did you just come to dance on our grave?
BG: Why, I thought you’d never ask! In fact, I have a very generous and substantial proposal for you!
NATE: Okay… (sighs) Well, let’s hear it, then.
BG: It’s good to see someone in the office here is willing to listen to reason. Cyberta, the proposal, please.
(CYBERTA Reaches into her suit jacket and pulls out a manila envelope conspicuously marked with the words “STRUGGLE PROPOSAL” and hands it over)
BG: Thank you.
(BRAIN GOD makes a big show of opening the folder, shuffling through various papers, and adjusting his glasses. After what feels like a full minute of stalling, he finally clears his voice and begins to speak.)
BG: Okay. In regard to the wrestling promotion known currently as STRUGGLE Pro wrestling, I make the following proposal: I propose that the two of you and everyone else here can SUUUUUUUUCK. MYYYYYYYY. DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK.
(he repeats the previous process of shuffling papers and assorted other nonsense, before handing the folder back to CYBERTA. NATE and ABDUL just stare at him in a weird sort of silent, impotent rage. ABDUL’s left eye twitches.)
BG: Welp, that takes care of that. Good luck with your impending homelessness, chumps.
(the three Think Tank members turn to leave, but CYBERTA turns around one last time as they exit the room)
CYBERTA: Nice seeing you guys again!
(After Team Blue and Green exit, an utterly defeated NATE sinks into his chair)
NATE: This is it, isn’t it? We really are completely screwed.
ABDUL: Ah, well, we haven’t exhausted all our options yet.
NATE: Well, of the people we have access to with money to burn, Hillbilly Grim throws around nickels like manhole covers, Ivan Grozny is mobbed up, and if my mother was going to fund us, we never would’ve been in this situation.
ABDUL: Well, we’ll keep trying to figure something out. Let’s just call it good for today and pick this up tomorrow. C’mon, we can check out that new chili dog place that just opened up, while we can still afford it.
(NATE and ABDUL get up and head toward the exit, but are met at the door by A MYSTERIOUS WOMAN in a distractingly short dress)
NATE: Um, hello, can I help you, or-
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN: Mr. Nathaniel Tyrese Ruggle, I presume?
ABDUL: (quietly) Tyrese?
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN : Ah, yes. And Mr. Abdul Marmaduke Haddad. I was informed that you would be here.
NATE: (also quietly) Marmaduke?
ABDUL: Sooo… Now that we’ve established our identities-
NATE: Marmaduke!?
ABDUL: (sighs) Anyway, who are you?
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN : That is not relevant to the present conversation.
ABDUL: But, uhhh, you’re…. Talking to us, how is that not-
NATE: Marmaduke…
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN : Gentlemen, it has to come to his attention that your sports-entertainment establishment has experienced an acute negative-cash-flow event.
NATE: Wait, who is “he?”
(THE MYSTERIOUS WOMAN motions outside, toward a large billboard)
ABDUL: Wait… I don’t there being a billboard out there earlier.
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN: …Because it wasn’t there.
NATE: (shakes his head, as though he has just been struck in the face by a flying horseshoe) Are… Are you saying that Ruprecht Schtank wants to invest in STRUGGLE Pro? THE Ruprecht Schtank!?
ABDUL: Should I know who that is?
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN: Yes, you should.
NATE: Abdul, Ruprecht Schtank is the richest man in the Tri-State Area.
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN: But he is so much more than that! A visionary, an inventor, a futurist, an adventurer, a DJ, a connoisseur of vibes…
ABDUL: Waaaait, isn’t that the guy that invented the smoke alarms that burned all those houses down? And the artificial sweetener that ended up being radioactive?
NATE: (whispering) Goddammit, Abdul…
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN: It is true, sometimes the normals have not been adequately prepared for his genius.
ABDUL: Heh, you know, there’s this lil’ gal named Candy that works here, I bet you two would get along great…
NATE: (elbows the shit out of ABDUL) So, uhh… If Mr. Schtank is really interested in us… Do we need to set up a meeting or call someone, or-
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN: No.
NATE: …What.
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN: Mr. Schtank does not set up meetings. He has evolved past the concept of schedules. He does not believe in the concepts of schedules, or time, or marsupials.
ABDUL: how can you not believe in-
(NATE elbows ABDUL again)
NATE: But then what are we supposed to do?
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN: Nothing. You do nothing. When he feels that the vibes are correct, he will make his presence known. Or possibly never. He is like the wind.
NATE: The vibes?
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN: Yes, the vibes. Mr. Schtank can only be afforded the most iconic vibes.
NATE: “Iconic vibes,” what does that even-
ABDUL: That’s science talk, Nate.
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN: Exactly. Good day, gentlemen.
(THE MYSTERIOUS WOMAN walks a few feet away, and a huge and eerily silent black SUV suddenly arrives as if on cue. The door flies open seemingly on its own, and she slides inside before it even has a chance to come to a complete stop, and it tears ass down the street at a high rate of speed)
ABDUL: What the hell just happened?
NATE: I think we might have just been bailed out by the richest man in the region, Abdul.
ABDUL: Or not. She said herself he might never actually show up. And besides, if that guy is the eccentric billionaire that I’m thinking of, he breaks every goddamn thing he touches. The man is an absolute dipshit, Nate.
NATE: Well, yeah, everything he does fails miserably. But then he gets the government to bail him out for more than he lost. Every time, like clockwork. The man is like the mediocre billionaire equivalent of those old cartoons where the baby crawls through the construction site. If this happens-
ABDUL: …and it probably won’t.
NATE: …If this happens, we could eventually be sitting on a bigger war chest than the SWA.
ABDUL: Well, hell. Like I said, this ain’t gonna happen, but just in case it does, I’m getting a second chili dog. C’mon.