Post by anthonycaffrey on Jul 23, 2019 22:10:45 GMT -5
REPORTER
We’re live at the teleporter of one Yuri Sakaraba, where we’re joined by Destiny Wrestling official Dumb Ref. Dumb, thank you for your time.
The camera opens on a scientific laboratory. The main focus, the teleporter, sits in the center of the room, surrounded by men and women in labcoats furiously punching away at computers and reading data. There are a handful of reporters scattered about the area as well.
DUMB
My pleasure.
REPORTER
With Champion’s Destiny being in space tomorrow, you must be nervous. I don’t think the XHF has ever seen wrestling in space, and you have a match with Fabiano for the CW Extravaganzanental Championship.
Dumb shakes his head, gently correcting the reporter.
DUMB
I’m nervous, but not about going to space. CW has been there before. It’ll be a new frontier for us, but we can wrestle anywhere and everywhere. No, I’m more worried about getting the big guy to the moon!
The monster known as Subject #42 emerges from where it was being kept. It looks around at all of the machines and seems generally confused, at least until it spots the referee. It makes its way over, seemingly not knowing what’s about to happen. During this time, the press, not expecting the big man, all cheer and take photos.
REPORTER
Well this is a surprise! Subject #42 isn’t even booked for this show! Is he making the trip up with you?
Dumb smiles, knowing more than he’s letting on.
DUMB
The teleporter can only teleport one person at a time. Subject will go up, and I’ll be there shortly thereafter. It’s a bit of a special project with Subject, it dwarfs the the rest of our competitors so greatly that we need to run accurate measurements to make sure everything works out.
REPORTER
Can you talk about the teleportation process? How’s it all work?
DUMB
Sure! It begins with…
As Dumb Ref talks to the reporter about the science behind teleportation, the camera zooms in on Subject #42. A few brave souls gently unravel a tape measure next to it and try to get measurements. The first measurement they report is that it’s seven feet tall, but then they experience a problem.
SCIENTIST
Dumb, we need its wingspan.
Dumb looks over from giving a scientific report explaining matter, gravity, and the Newtonian laws that make teleportation possible. It was really quite the answer from such a referee known as "DUMB".
DUMB
Subject’s not a bird, why do you need its wingspan?
SCIENTIST
Do you want a one-armed Subject fighting for the X*Crown?
Dumb is taken aback by the comment.
DUMB
Fair point.
He turns to Subject.
DUMB
Please stick your arms out for the nice man. Like this.
Dumb makes the motion for Subject, who nods and then sticks his arms out. The scientist gets to measuring.
REPORTER
Really an incredible rapport you two have built, it’s almost like you’re family---
There’s that word again.
SUBJECT #42
Raghragh?
Dumb laughs it off.
DUMB
Nah, I’m just one of the few guys who understand there’s a heart in that big ol’ monster body of his.
The scientist finishes his measurement.
SCIENTIST
89 inches!
Dumb nods, turning back to the reporter. He laughs.
DUMB
It’s a grower, not a shower.
The reporter does not. Dumb sighs.
DUMB
All these people think they have a chance with Subject on Sunday at Night of Champions. Its arms are longer than most of its competitors are tall. It doesn’t matter which structure they climb out of to get the hell away from Subject. Like a good neighbor, Subject will be there to rip them back down to size.
REPORTER
Do any of Subject’s competitors worry you? 42 has tough competition on Sunday.
DUMB
He does have tough competition, but over the next week or so, everyone will tell you they’re tough. That’s a tale as old as time in our business. But they won’t tell you about their weaknesses. Zolothatch is not going to stand there and tell you that she hates being called Tabitha with every fiber of her being.
The reporter throws her hands up, giving Dumb a “What the hell are you doing?” look. He puts out a hand.
DUMB
Relax.
REPORTER
Do you really want to anger Zolothatch?
Dumb shakes his head, pointing back at Subject.
DUMB
Zolo’s not the only one capable of ripping someone’s arm off in this match.
He smirks.
DUMB
She’s got magic, Subject… I’m pretty 42 could eat Suzuki if it really wanted to.
Dumb laughs, and then realizes the morbidity of the joke he just made. He grimaces.
REPORTER
What about Holiday?
Dumb Ref rolls his eyes. He pulls the reporter closer.
DUMB
You can’t print this. I get in trouble when I curse.
The reporter’s look shifts, way more curious about what is about to be said.
DUMB
But fuck Tommy Holiday. There’s grass out front of the XHF offices less green than him.
Dumb looks on. His voice is a little more aggressive than usual.
DUMB
We’re not supposed to say this… but Tommy Holiday’s wrestled, what… one match? Two? And he’s got an X*Crown shot? Subject is a former World Champion. Holiday… picking Holiday is a complete throw of the dice from AXW.
Dumb realizes he’s on camera, meaning that everything will be reported. He doesn’t seem to care.
DUMB
Publish this: we all know Tommy Holiday’s only got a shot at the X*Crown because Anthony Caffrey and Bobby Barratt are too busy fighting for the Undisputed Championship.
The reporter’s eyes go wide as she finishes scribbling. Dumb Ref scoffs.
DUMB
He isn’t even the fifth best wrestler on that show.
Dumb shakes his head, looking back at the monster. He addresses the beast.
DUMB
Hey Subject, how do you feel about bullies?
SUBJECT #42
RAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
An energy pulse comes off of the big man, almost shorting the computers. The electricity flickers on and off as the main scientist yells at Ref.
SCIENTIST
CAN YOU NOT?!
Dumb puts his hands up.
DUMB
Sorry!
All of the scientists are immediately flustered as they scramble around in an attempt to repair the teleporter and restore the readings back to where they once were. Everyone seems to gloss over what has occurred, trying to put the freak occurrence behind them.
Dumb turns back to the reporter.
DUMB
Subject doesn’t like bullies. Holiday’s claim to fame is injuring a man to the point where he can no longer fight for his livelihood. That smug bastard took a man’s livelihood away from him. Granted, Subject probably could take a man’s life away if he wanted…
Ref pulls on his collar, knowing he shouldn’t be talking about the things he’s seen.
DUMB
But Holiday is a different kind of monster than Subject. Subject has a heart. It has courage to go along with all that strength. Holiday, on the other hand? He’s a heartless bastard. He can go ahead and pitch whatever sob story he wants about his mom or his girlfriend or his sister---
REPORTER
It’s his dead wife.
DUMB
We’ve all people had die in our lives. You know what we do? We shoulder it. We fight to keep it from swallowing us up and then we swallow it right back. And we soldier on, beating against it, inch by inch, foot by foot, mile by mile until we’ve got nothing left. But the wrestling world? It’s callous as hell, but the wrestling world doesn’t give a shit about your grief.
DUMB
The wrestling world cares about who wins and who loses when that bell rings. And when that bell rings on Sunday, Tommy Holiday is locked in a cage with wrestlers who can and will wrestle circles around him, as far as I’m concerned. He can go on and on about his dead wife until Travis Monroe puts out another best seller--
Dumb realizes the reporter has stopped writing. He takes a deep breath, slowing down.
DUMB
But it doesn’t matter. And if that woman fell for... that disgusting horrible sleazebag of a hu--- you know what? I won’t even call him human, because being a human requires empathy and heart, something Subject has more of than he does, well... then maybe she’s just not worth talking about at all.
Dumb sighs. The scientist from earlier walks over and taps him on the shoulder.
SCIENTIST
All ready to go, Dumb. You wanna say something to it before we get going?
DUMB
How long is it until we can put up there behind 42?
The scientist flips through the notes on their clipboard.
SCIENTIST
Should be... about… ten minutes.
DUMB
Shit. That’s going to be a long ten minutes.
SCIENTIST
We could re-calibrate, send you up first instead.
DUMB
Then how are any of you ever going to get 42 up there?
The scientist nods.
SCIENTIST
Fair point.
Dumb walks past the scientist, coming around to the front of the teleporter to talk to Subject. Subject is contained for now, but with its eyes are focused on Dumb. Dumb steps up to the barrier.
DUMB
You ready, big guy?
Subject makes a motion towards the entrance to the teleporter.
SUBJECT #42
Ragh?
Dumb shakes his head “no”.
DUMB
We talked about this, remember? You’re going up to space, and to the moon---
Subject looks up. For some reason, it seems to sense exactly what direction the moon is in, even though the laboratory has no room to reveal such a thing.
DUMB
I’m going to be right behind you. Give me ten minutes, buddy. Just sit there. And I’ll be right there for you, just like I always am.
Dumb bangs on his chest, right where his heart his. Subject does the same.
DUMB
Yeah, man. There’s that heart of yours. You’re gonna be fine. Yeah…
Dumb looks down. Subject notices.
SUBJECT #42
Ragh?
Dumb laughs to himself, but not an actual laugh. More of a moment of self-reflection, really.
DUMB
Show ‘em all wrong, buddy. They doubted us. They didn’t think it would work. They didn’t think anyone would watch us, they didn’t think wrestlers would sign up outside of a small group of people. But now, now on Sunday we have a chance to show that you’re more than a monster, you’re a monster with a heart. You have a chance to show we’re more than just a different way of doing things...
SCIENTIST
Hurry up, we’re all ready to go, and I don’t know how long we’ll sustain this level of energy!
Dumb shakes himself out of his thoughts.
DUMB
See you on the other side.
Dumb nods at Subject and smiles. Subject #42 looks down at the closest thing it has to family and nods, before being immediately startled by the teleportation sequence beginning.
ROBOTIC VOICE
Teleportation sequence initiated. T-minus 10 seconds.
SUBJECT #42
RAGH!
The readings and electricity fluctuate again with the “Ragh”.
SCIENTIST
FUCK!
ROBOTIC VOICE
Five… four… three…
DUMB
Turn it off!
ROBOTIC VOICE
...two… one…
Subject #42 disappears in a great ball of light blue energy.
ROBOTIC VOICE
Sequence… complete.
The reporters in the room clap at the teleportation. The scientists read gauges and computers as data comes flying onto their screens. The main scientist grabs a read out and comes running towards Dumb.
SCIENTIST
Shit, shit, this isn’t fucking good…
DUMB
What the hell? Did 42 make it?
SCIENTIST
I think so. The reports says so, anyway. But… it shorted one of the teleporter’s computers.
Dumb’s look of concern only grows. He frantically paces back and forth in front of the device.
DUMB
What? How is that possible?
SCIENTIST
Some kind of electrical output coming from Subject…
Dumb is furious with the scientist.
DUMB
That’s impossible! We put it in matches in arenas all over the world and it’s never done anything close to that!
SCIENTIST
Look, I understand… but it’s really sensitive equipment, that’s probably what happened.
DUMB
Can we get Subject back? Hell, we can get any of my guys back?
The scientist puts their hands up, trying to get the referee to start talking.
SCIENTIST
We should be able to. We should be able to get you up there, still. But it’s going to take some time, we have to get the generators running and reroute a few complex sequences…
Dumb Ref looks on at the scientist, shaking his head in cocern.
DUMB
How long is that going to take?
The scientist flips through the data readout again.
SCIENTIST
Probably… we can probably get you up there…
The scientist bangs on his clipboard, having found something similar to an answer.
SCIENTIST
Probably in the next three-to-four hours.
DUMB
What?
SCIENTIST
It’s going to take us all night, but we’ll get you up there. I know we can do it.
Dumb Ref sighs. He puts his head in his hands as the scientist tries to console him, but the scientist realizes that it’s not going to be of any use to the referee. They look back down at their charts and go back to the computers.
SCIENTIST
At least, I think we can do it.
The scientist probably meant that to be more under their breath. Dumb shakes his head.
DUMB
Fuck.
The camera cuts.
We’re live at the teleporter of one Yuri Sakaraba, where we’re joined by Destiny Wrestling official Dumb Ref. Dumb, thank you for your time.
The camera opens on a scientific laboratory. The main focus, the teleporter, sits in the center of the room, surrounded by men and women in labcoats furiously punching away at computers and reading data. There are a handful of reporters scattered about the area as well.
DUMB
My pleasure.
REPORTER
With Champion’s Destiny being in space tomorrow, you must be nervous. I don’t think the XHF has ever seen wrestling in space, and you have a match with Fabiano for the CW Extravaganzanental Championship.
Dumb shakes his head, gently correcting the reporter.
DUMB
I’m nervous, but not about going to space. CW has been there before. It’ll be a new frontier for us, but we can wrestle anywhere and everywhere. No, I’m more worried about getting the big guy to the moon!
The monster known as Subject #42 emerges from where it was being kept. It looks around at all of the machines and seems generally confused, at least until it spots the referee. It makes its way over, seemingly not knowing what’s about to happen. During this time, the press, not expecting the big man, all cheer and take photos.
REPORTER
Well this is a surprise! Subject #42 isn’t even booked for this show! Is he making the trip up with you?
Dumb smiles, knowing more than he’s letting on.
DUMB
The teleporter can only teleport one person at a time. Subject will go up, and I’ll be there shortly thereafter. It’s a bit of a special project with Subject, it dwarfs the the rest of our competitors so greatly that we need to run accurate measurements to make sure everything works out.
REPORTER
Can you talk about the teleportation process? How’s it all work?
DUMB
Sure! It begins with…
As Dumb Ref talks to the reporter about the science behind teleportation, the camera zooms in on Subject #42. A few brave souls gently unravel a tape measure next to it and try to get measurements. The first measurement they report is that it’s seven feet tall, but then they experience a problem.
SCIENTIST
Dumb, we need its wingspan.
Dumb looks over from giving a scientific report explaining matter, gravity, and the Newtonian laws that make teleportation possible. It was really quite the answer from such a referee known as "DUMB".
DUMB
Subject’s not a bird, why do you need its wingspan?
SCIENTIST
Do you want a one-armed Subject fighting for the X*Crown?
Dumb is taken aback by the comment.
DUMB
Fair point.
He turns to Subject.
DUMB
Please stick your arms out for the nice man. Like this.
Dumb makes the motion for Subject, who nods and then sticks his arms out. The scientist gets to measuring.
REPORTER
Really an incredible rapport you two have built, it’s almost like you’re family---
There’s that word again.
SUBJECT #42
Raghragh?
Dumb laughs it off.
DUMB
Nah, I’m just one of the few guys who understand there’s a heart in that big ol’ monster body of his.
The scientist finishes his measurement.
SCIENTIST
89 inches!
Dumb nods, turning back to the reporter. He laughs.
DUMB
It’s a grower, not a shower.
The reporter does not. Dumb sighs.
DUMB
All these people think they have a chance with Subject on Sunday at Night of Champions. Its arms are longer than most of its competitors are tall. It doesn’t matter which structure they climb out of to get the hell away from Subject. Like a good neighbor, Subject will be there to rip them back down to size.
REPORTER
Do any of Subject’s competitors worry you? 42 has tough competition on Sunday.
DUMB
He does have tough competition, but over the next week or so, everyone will tell you they’re tough. That’s a tale as old as time in our business. But they won’t tell you about their weaknesses. Zolothatch is not going to stand there and tell you that she hates being called Tabitha with every fiber of her being.
The reporter throws her hands up, giving Dumb a “What the hell are you doing?” look. He puts out a hand.
DUMB
Relax.
REPORTER
Do you really want to anger Zolothatch?
Dumb shakes his head, pointing back at Subject.
DUMB
Zolo’s not the only one capable of ripping someone’s arm off in this match.
He smirks.
DUMB
She’s got magic, Subject… I’m pretty 42 could eat Suzuki if it really wanted to.
Dumb laughs, and then realizes the morbidity of the joke he just made. He grimaces.
REPORTER
What about Holiday?
Dumb Ref rolls his eyes. He pulls the reporter closer.
DUMB
You can’t print this. I get in trouble when I curse.
The reporter’s look shifts, way more curious about what is about to be said.
DUMB
But fuck Tommy Holiday. There’s grass out front of the XHF offices less green than him.
Dumb looks on. His voice is a little more aggressive than usual.
DUMB
We’re not supposed to say this… but Tommy Holiday’s wrestled, what… one match? Two? And he’s got an X*Crown shot? Subject is a former World Champion. Holiday… picking Holiday is a complete throw of the dice from AXW.
Dumb realizes he’s on camera, meaning that everything will be reported. He doesn’t seem to care.
DUMB
Publish this: we all know Tommy Holiday’s only got a shot at the X*Crown because Anthony Caffrey and Bobby Barratt are too busy fighting for the Undisputed Championship.
The reporter’s eyes go wide as she finishes scribbling. Dumb Ref scoffs.
DUMB
He isn’t even the fifth best wrestler on that show.
Dumb shakes his head, looking back at the monster. He addresses the beast.
DUMB
Hey Subject, how do you feel about bullies?
SUBJECT #42
RAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
An energy pulse comes off of the big man, almost shorting the computers. The electricity flickers on and off as the main scientist yells at Ref.
SCIENTIST
CAN YOU NOT?!
Dumb puts his hands up.
DUMB
Sorry!
All of the scientists are immediately flustered as they scramble around in an attempt to repair the teleporter and restore the readings back to where they once were. Everyone seems to gloss over what has occurred, trying to put the freak occurrence behind them.
Dumb turns back to the reporter.
DUMB
Subject doesn’t like bullies. Holiday’s claim to fame is injuring a man to the point where he can no longer fight for his livelihood. That smug bastard took a man’s livelihood away from him. Granted, Subject probably could take a man’s life away if he wanted…
Ref pulls on his collar, knowing he shouldn’t be talking about the things he’s seen.
DUMB
But Holiday is a different kind of monster than Subject. Subject has a heart. It has courage to go along with all that strength. Holiday, on the other hand? He’s a heartless bastard. He can go ahead and pitch whatever sob story he wants about his mom or his girlfriend or his sister---
REPORTER
It’s his dead wife.
DUMB
We’ve all people had die in our lives. You know what we do? We shoulder it. We fight to keep it from swallowing us up and then we swallow it right back. And we soldier on, beating against it, inch by inch, foot by foot, mile by mile until we’ve got nothing left. But the wrestling world? It’s callous as hell, but the wrestling world doesn’t give a shit about your grief.
DUMB
The wrestling world cares about who wins and who loses when that bell rings. And when that bell rings on Sunday, Tommy Holiday is locked in a cage with wrestlers who can and will wrestle circles around him, as far as I’m concerned. He can go on and on about his dead wife until Travis Monroe puts out another best seller--
Dumb realizes the reporter has stopped writing. He takes a deep breath, slowing down.
DUMB
But it doesn’t matter. And if that woman fell for... that disgusting horrible sleazebag of a hu--- you know what? I won’t even call him human, because being a human requires empathy and heart, something Subject has more of than he does, well... then maybe she’s just not worth talking about at all.
Dumb sighs. The scientist from earlier walks over and taps him on the shoulder.
SCIENTIST
All ready to go, Dumb. You wanna say something to it before we get going?
DUMB
How long is it until we can put up there behind 42?
The scientist flips through the notes on their clipboard.
SCIENTIST
Should be... about… ten minutes.
DUMB
Shit. That’s going to be a long ten minutes.
SCIENTIST
We could re-calibrate, send you up first instead.
DUMB
Then how are any of you ever going to get 42 up there?
The scientist nods.
SCIENTIST
Fair point.
Dumb walks past the scientist, coming around to the front of the teleporter to talk to Subject. Subject is contained for now, but with its eyes are focused on Dumb. Dumb steps up to the barrier.
DUMB
You ready, big guy?
Subject makes a motion towards the entrance to the teleporter.
SUBJECT #42
Ragh?
Dumb shakes his head “no”.
DUMB
We talked about this, remember? You’re going up to space, and to the moon---
Subject looks up. For some reason, it seems to sense exactly what direction the moon is in, even though the laboratory has no room to reveal such a thing.
DUMB
I’m going to be right behind you. Give me ten minutes, buddy. Just sit there. And I’ll be right there for you, just like I always am.
Dumb bangs on his chest, right where his heart his. Subject does the same.
DUMB
Yeah, man. There’s that heart of yours. You’re gonna be fine. Yeah…
Dumb looks down. Subject notices.
SUBJECT #42
Ragh?
Dumb laughs to himself, but not an actual laugh. More of a moment of self-reflection, really.
DUMB
Show ‘em all wrong, buddy. They doubted us. They didn’t think it would work. They didn’t think anyone would watch us, they didn’t think wrestlers would sign up outside of a small group of people. But now, now on Sunday we have a chance to show that you’re more than a monster, you’re a monster with a heart. You have a chance to show we’re more than just a different way of doing things...
SCIENTIST
Hurry up, we’re all ready to go, and I don’t know how long we’ll sustain this level of energy!
Dumb shakes himself out of his thoughts.
DUMB
See you on the other side.
Dumb nods at Subject and smiles. Subject #42 looks down at the closest thing it has to family and nods, before being immediately startled by the teleportation sequence beginning.
ROBOTIC VOICE
Teleportation sequence initiated. T-minus 10 seconds.
SUBJECT #42
RAGH!
The readings and electricity fluctuate again with the “Ragh”.
SCIENTIST
FUCK!
ROBOTIC VOICE
Five… four… three…
DUMB
Turn it off!
ROBOTIC VOICE
...two… one…
Subject #42 disappears in a great ball of light blue energy.
ROBOTIC VOICE
Sequence… complete.
The reporters in the room clap at the teleportation. The scientists read gauges and computers as data comes flying onto their screens. The main scientist grabs a read out and comes running towards Dumb.
SCIENTIST
Shit, shit, this isn’t fucking good…
DUMB
What the hell? Did 42 make it?
SCIENTIST
I think so. The reports says so, anyway. But… it shorted one of the teleporter’s computers.
Dumb’s look of concern only grows. He frantically paces back and forth in front of the device.
DUMB
What? How is that possible?
SCIENTIST
Some kind of electrical output coming from Subject…
Dumb is furious with the scientist.
DUMB
That’s impossible! We put it in matches in arenas all over the world and it’s never done anything close to that!
SCIENTIST
Look, I understand… but it’s really sensitive equipment, that’s probably what happened.
DUMB
Can we get Subject back? Hell, we can get any of my guys back?
The scientist puts their hands up, trying to get the referee to start talking.
SCIENTIST
We should be able to. We should be able to get you up there, still. But it’s going to take some time, we have to get the generators running and reroute a few complex sequences…
Dumb Ref looks on at the scientist, shaking his head in cocern.
DUMB
How long is that going to take?
The scientist flips through the data readout again.
SCIENTIST
Probably… we can probably get you up there…
The scientist bangs on his clipboard, having found something similar to an answer.
SCIENTIST
Probably in the next three-to-four hours.
DUMB
What?
SCIENTIST
It’s going to take us all night, but we’ll get you up there. I know we can do it.
Dumb Ref sighs. He puts his head in his hands as the scientist tries to console him, but the scientist realizes that it’s not going to be of any use to the referee. They look back down at their charts and go back to the computers.
SCIENTIST
At least, I think we can do it.
The scientist probably meant that to be more under their breath. Dumb shakes his head.
DUMB
Fuck.
The camera cuts.
