SAN JOSE, CA: Outside a local hospital, STRUGGLE PRO‘s resident team of antagonists, THE EVIL ADMINISTRATION, are gathered to assess their current situation after a pretty disastrous month, and/or wait for a taxi back to their hotel. Following a sudden, humiliating, and injurious defeat to WARRIOR PRO World Champion DOC WYATT, a neckbrace-clad STRUGGLE final boss PRESIDENT EVIL is suddenly facing unexpected downtime, while everyone else is just bummed to be here, after only finding out a day before the event that seconds were banned from ringside.
PRESIDENT EVIL: I can’t believe this shit. This is a fuckin’ disaster. This was supposed to start the Year of Evil! I was going to get shirts made and all that shit! We should be heading home right now, with all of STRUGGLE’s singles titles, plus the world belt from this fuckin’ place… Instead, you idiots lost your titles, and then… Ugh, that little fucker, and his fuckin’ Diamond Cutter…
(THE SCENE: At the STRUGGLE offices in the old Blockbuster next to the arena, STRUGGLE President NATE RUGGLE and Head Booker/Everything Else UNCLE ABDUL are meeting with wrestler DONITA ZAPATA, who has been knocked out of action for the forseeable future, following the events of FALL FORWARD #1.)
ABDUL: Are you sure you wanna do this? I know you won’t be takin’ bumps out there all night, but there’s still a chance. I mean, Referoth got nailed out there last week.
DONITA: I know, but just.. Fuck man, I’m gonna be out of work for a year, probably. I’ve got to do something. And I already passed the written test, and the Athletic Commission signed off on it, somehow.
NATE: I guess so, but you do realize that we’re broke, right? If something gets aggravated out there and you need another surgery or something, we can’t help with it. Hell, we couldn’t help with the first one.
DONITA: Yeah, I’m well aware of that. Again, it’s part of why I need a fuckin’ job so bad.
(THE SCENE: In the dressing room next to the sauna at the Abandoned Pines Retirement Home after Fall Forward #2, several members of the Evil Administration reflect on a blisteringly unsuccessful day at the office. BECKY WITH THE EVIL HAIR, having recently become an ex-champion for the second time, has had an extreme reaction to failure, pacing back and forth, angrily kicking and tossing anything she can find, and generally trashing the place. Meanwhile, AGENT BULLDOG seems calm and relaxed, partially because she won her match, and partially because emotions are kind of rare for her. AGENT 35 is in a similar state, but mostly because he just doesn’t give a shit. Freshly-uncrowned former Cruiserweight Champion AGENT FANG is despondent, sulking on a bench, and staring at a “number 2 guy around here” t-shirt that had been made to commemorate his title win, before wadding it up and throwing it across the room.)
FANG: Well, I guess those can go on clearance now…
ON SALE NOW! (but I’d wait for them to go on clearance)
AGENT 35: Yep, tough break there, my dude. Of course, my shirts can still run free, all thanks to the blessings of lowered expectations.
(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!
(THE SCENE: STRUGGLE Pro Acting President NATE RUGGLE‘s office in the old Blockbuster next to the arena, where we join a heated argument in progress. NATE and UNCLE ABDUL are trying to diffuse the situation, as STORMY KNIGHT voices her disapproval with the general state of things.)
NATE: …Look, just calm down, and-
STORMY: Calm down!? You can’t be serious! I have been here since you relaunched this promotion, and I have beaten everyone you’ve put in front of me! How can I NOT be the number one contender!?
ABDUL: You haven’t beaten everyone. Hell, last time you and Jezebel crossed paths, she pinned you.
STORMY: And this was when she came in fresh, after I took out her little buddies, Wish Dot Com Yumiko and The Great Communicator. One on one, I beat her every time.
ABDUL: …Except that time y’all went to a draw.
STORMY: Because she ran from me for thirty minutes!
(THE SCENE: After a STRUGGLE house show, (we have shows y’all don’t know about, honest) ZIPPITY DUDA is alone in the locker room, and he has taken great pains to assure himself that this is truly the case. He’s looked around every corner and inspected every nook and cranny, and when he’s made absolutely sure that no one else is anywhere nearby, he pulls out a Zip-Loc bag, which contains a small vial of liquid and a hypodermic needle.)
ZIP: (nervously) Okay… It’s okay, you can do this. Okay… Just one quick poke, and you’re on your way… Muscles, money, girls… Your mother will stop yelling at you… You can do this…
(Not having any idea what the hell he’s doing, ZIP starts to tie off his arm like a heroin addict, then slowly inserts the needle into the steroid vial, his hands shaking the entire time. Shaking so hard, in fact, that he ends up dropping it, and upon hitting the floor, it shatters, and its contents are immediately soaked into the indoor/outdoor carpet.)
ZIP: (With the despairing tone of a dude who just lost something he had to sell his XBox to buy, because that’s exactly what just happened) Noooo!
(ZIP drops down to his hands and knees and starts trying in vain to salvage whatever he can, when – to his horror – he starts to hear the sounds of an elderly German filmmaker bickering with a maniacal burnout pseudo-journalist; it’s COBRA HIGHWAY!)
REINHOLD KINSKI: Mein Gott… How is it zat you have come to arrive here?
ZIP: Look, this is -I mean, I-I-I
RAOUL KEMP: Better keep your distance from that one, Adolf. A junkie without his shit is liable to turn on you like a rabid dog. Give him ten minutes and that boy will become a wild-eyed, slavering brute who’d be thrown into a ditch and poked with sharp sticks if this was a decent society.
ZIP: Junkie!? No, no, no, this is-
KINSKI: It is truly an accursed thing we bear vitness to on zis day. His soul screams in agony. God himself looks down upon zis young man, and he gazes upward toward ze heavens, and he knows. Knows zat he has been chosen by the divine Himself. Chosen to be abandoned.
ZIP: No, seriously, you’ve got it all wrong! This isn’t-
KEMP: C’mon, let’s get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to be the nearest potential victim when this freak’s eyes roll over white and he starts thirsting for blood.
KINSKI: Ve should get some chili dogs.
(KEMP and KINSKI disappear in a cloud of grizzly bear fur and amyl nitrate caplets, and ZIP is very confused. He then sadly starts trying to pick the broken pieces of glass out of the carpet, in order o destroy the evidence before anyone else shows up. As with most things in his life, he fails, as he suddenly smells the telltale scent of Icy Hot and regret – It’s disgraced former world’s champion ACE LA GRANGE!)
ACE: God damn, brother! How is it that you have come to arrive here!?
ZIP: Oh no…
ACE: I mean, things got pretty dark back in the day, but even I never messed around with that shit, brother.
ZIP: (sighing defeatedly) Look… It’s not what you think. That was… I was doing steroids.
(ACE pauses for a moment, as though the hamster wheel in his brain cannot process this information, then can’t help but laugh)
ACE: Ha ha ha ha ha, bullshit, brother! You ain’t on the gas! Look, I spent the entire 2000s on enough gas to fuel a fleet of buses, and that ain’t the body of someone who’s juiced up.
ZIP: It was my first time! Or.. You know… It would’ve been.
ACE: Then why’s your arm tied up like that, brother? You just stick yourself in the butt, or, you know, wherever.
ZIP: What, really? Son of a…
(ACE reaches down and picks up the piece of the vial with the label, then looks shocked.)
ACE: I’ll be damned, you weren’t lying. Brother, what the hell are you doing this for, anyway?
ZIP: Well, you know… To get bigger.
ACE: Brother, you’re a cruiserweight. You’re like four feet tall.
ZIP: i know, I know, it’s just, you know…. My mom…
ACE: (in a very serious tone) Brother, be honest with me… Are you trying to bulk up to beat up your mom?
ZIP: No! It’s just, you know, she just doesn’t respect me, and I thought that if I could win more matches…
ACE: Really? Hell, brother, you don’t need muscles to kick ass. Well, I mean, you do, but not asses as small as the ones you’re trying to kick. Come on, brother, I’m taking you under my wing.
ZIP: Do what now?
ACE: Look, brother, I’m a former world’s champion. If there’s one thing I know, it’s kicking asses professionally. And trust me brother, taking the kinda shortcuts you were gonna take is no good. Sooner or later, you’re gonna end up all messed up, like I did, or like Rockin’ Roland or Alex Kane or Damien Nova.
ZIP: Who’s Damien Nova?
ACE: Aw, brother. Probably the biggest “never was” in the history of Tri-State Area Wrestling. Huh… Heard he just got outta prison, come to think of it. Wonder what he’s up to…
(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!
(THE SCENE: Inside Gorgeous Gummo’s Casa De Butts, the local establishment, beloved for providing the community with liquor, chicken wings, and naked women, owned and operated by STRUGGLE Pro Wrestling mainstay GUMMO NAKAMURA. It is a place of total sensory overload, with loud music blaring and garish pink neon seemingly everywhere, in addition to the occasional topless dancer. Diminutive cruiserweight wrestler ZIPPITY DUDA anxiously makes his way through the main room, clearly overwhelmed and intimated by all of this, not to mention by the monstrous bouncers posted at regular intervals and the oily sketchiness of the patrons that frequent the place during the day shift. Seeing as how she is neither monstrous nor in a state of undress, Zip decides to approach ROSA THE BARTENDER to inquire of Gummo’s whereabouts.)
ZIP: Um, hello? Excuse me? Ma’am?
(ROSA doesn’t notice that he’s there, as she is busy wiping out glasses and distracted by the TV mounted on the wall behind the bar, which is currently showing a car insurance commercial featuring a CGI mouse.)
(THE SCENE: Outside the Vito Genovese Memorial Bingo Complex and Auction Barn, THE PHANTOM ROCKER approaches her car – a sweet 1987 IROC-Z. After she unlocks the door and prepares to get inside, she hears a familiar, angry voice…)
DONITA: HEY!
(ROCKER turns around to see her alleged older sister DONITA ZAPATA.(“alleged” sister, as in confirming such things would reveal a masked wrestler’s identity, which is illegal – but c’mon, that’s totally what the deal is) DONITA is conspicuously wearing her own early 90s-esque clothing, as opposed to the glam rock themed stuff she was forced to wear as a result of losing the “Hair Metal vs. Mask” match a while back)
ROCKER: Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell are you doing!?
(DONITA angrily shoves a piece of paper into ROCKER’s hands)
ROCKER: Wait… What is…
DONITA: It’s from the Tri-State Area Athletic Commission. And it’s says that you can fuck off, Lita.
ROCKER: But-but-but-
DONITA: A lucha de apuestas contract can’t be open-ended, unless it’s a mask or a loser-leaves-town situation, and how long I had to wear that bullshit was never specified. Add in your abuse of the situation, all your goddamn Skittles or whatever, and the commission ruled that- like I said – you can fuck right off.
ROCKER: So… Are you just going to…
DONITA: What!?
ROCKER: Well… I mean… I just thought that…
DONITA: Lita, if you are about to tell that you had hoped this would be bring us together or some shit, don’t bother. I am fucking done with you. Congratulations.
(ROCKER, looking like she’s on the verge of tears, angrily throws the car door open, gets inside, and starts the engine. DONITA smugly looks on, then starts to turn around, before being interrupted)
ROCKER: I guess you’ve got a point, Donita. I mean, being forced by someone from your own family to look and act a certain way against your will? Why, that must have been awful.
(ROCKER guns the engine, recklessly backs out of her spot, and tears ass out of the parking lot, squealing tires and throwing rocks and shit everywhere. DONITA just stands and stares as she drives off, suddenly with a very distraught look on her face)
(THE SCENE: The STRUGGLE home office, located in the old Blockbuster next to the Vito Genovese Memorial Bingo Complex and Auction Barn. STRUGGLE acting president NATE RUGGLE is going over a big stack of invoices and other business-type documents with announcer/interviewer/office lackey MURRAY STADANKOWICZ, executive VP of talent relations/wrestler PAM FROM HUMAN RESOURCES, as well as wrestler BUSINESS CLOWN, who is there on account of how he’s good at business and all. Strangely and unexpectedly, the news seems to be mostly good.)
BUSINESS CLOWN: …So the county fair people taking the concessions hurt, but we sold a shitload of t-shirts and Gummo’s idea of selling shots of whiskey alongside the t-shirts really paid off.
NATE: …Which was illegal.
CLOWN: Most good business is. And it made enough to pay off the cops and still turn a profit. And it was like 15 degrees, those idiots had to stay warm somehow.
NATE: (shaking his head) So what are we looking at here? Did we break even?
