Post by The Unstable Elements on Apr 13, 2012 6:21:34 GMT -5
[In life, they say, the choices we make create alternate realities... for every yes, there's a world out there somewhere where we actually said no. They say that for every day we stay inside there is a reality where we went outside and affected the world around us. Of course this could be complete conjecture - science can't prove there are realities other than our own... but we'll always suspect, won't we? One man, a man who calls himself Kid, chose to come to Japan with his new friend the Champ and his loving girlfriend in search of piece of mind and adventures in the great unknown. One woman, this Kid's fiery cohort, came along with him in hopes of breaking the news gently that she'd gotten them booked into a bloodbath. And one man, a reporter who'd lost his way, came to these islands following a story... not knowing that he would run into it by accident. In this reality, the one we know as ours here in WCF, the Unstable Elements have come to Japan on what would be a leisurely holiday for anyone else... and found themselves readying for war. And even in this reality, no war would be complete without being reflected through the lens of journalism.]
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UNSTABLE ELEMENTS #2: "Tokyo Drifters"
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[Scene: the lobby of a swanky hotel in Tokyo, Japan. A strange mixture of kids dressed as punks, older men in business suits and people wearing clashing American attire push around the busy lobby. Kid Phantasm and Nightmare stand amidst the confusion wearing street clothes (he's wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt reading "Spoiler Alert: Fly wins at the end"; Nightmare is wearing black trackpants and a red t-shirt that says "Expelled from clown college". It has a picture of a pile of dead clowns on it.) Phantasm has a look of utter heartbreak on his face... and somehow, in his voice.]
Kid Phantasm: Why in the world would you ASK them for a hardcore match? With fucking Oblivion of all people!
Nightmare: It's not that big of a deal. Look at it this way - it's a chance for us to earn some respect while getting bloody like we used to. You remember New Orleans, right?
Kid Phantasm: I'm being reminded of it right the fuck now.
[They look up and see a vending machine selling what appear to be alcoholic beverages.]
Kid Phantasm: This place is what New Orleans would be like if New Orleans was from outer space.
Nightmare: Wow. Yeah, now that you mention it...
Kid Phantasm: -seriously, a hardcore match? With Oblivion?!
Nightmare: What's the big deal? He's just some dude.
Kid Phantasm: You remember the roster work-up you had Eye-Six read us? You remember the file on Oblivion? He's a LEGIT MURDERER. That dude has killed people. Not person, PEOPLE. Legend has it he eats one of his fans every week to put something where his soul should be.
Nightmare: So he's a psycho. Whatever. The 'fed's full of psychos. Shit, you've got three of them holding belts right now! There's no better way for us to further our agenda of taking this company back for professional wrestling than to take down the Hardcore Champion at his own game. Am I right?
[Phantasm considers her logic. He mumbles a response.]
Nightmare: What was that, baby?
Kid Phantasm (louder): We're gonna need weapons.
[Nightmare hugs him in a giant embrace.]
Nightmare: That's my man! Now, where can we buy power tools around here? I wanna go Mrs. Pogo on these fools.
[Phantasm's face shows a look of pure dread.]
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[Scene: the streets of Tokyo, Japan. Outside, much as in the lobby, no one really seems to pay the small-statured-and-normally-dressed Americans any mind. Kid Phantasm gazes about with a look of wonder plainly etched on his face. Nightmare peers in shop windows, frantically looking for any sign of sharp objects for sale.]
Kid Phantasm: Look at this shit - it's just like outer space New Orleans. Instead of a streetcar they've got a god-damned monorail. It's a straight up Simpsons episode over here.
Nightmare: What street is this?
Kid Phantasm: I think in Japan they don't name the streets, they name the blocks.
Nightmare: Well what block is this?
Kid Phantasm: How the hell should I know? The signs are all in Japanese. Seriously, check out this monorail! It's like we're at fuckin' EPCOT Center!
[Nightmare tries to stop a kindly woman, but no dice.]
Nightmare: Excuse us, we're looking for- damnit. Hey, sir!
[She taps an old man waiting for the train on the shoulder. He looks up briefly, then back to his station as the train silently glides to a stop before him.]
Nightmare: Amazing. This town's full of assholes. Now it feels like Los Angeles.
Kid Phantasm: Think I've figured out your problem... and maybe even how to solve it.
[Kid pulls out his smartphone. With a few touches, he begins ringing a line...]
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[Scene: WCF Arena (Reading, Pennsylvania); more specifically, the utility closet we've come to know as 'Polar Base'. The room is empty save for its usual menagerie of decorations and housewares... and save for one piece of electronic equipment. Iceberg-Six sits at its perch, connected to the 'brain' of the WCF Arena through a system of wires and cables. On its screen a message pops up reading 'Incoming Call'. On the fourth ring, the call is answered.]
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[...and as that line is answered, he hears a familiar voice.]
Kid Phantasm (voice): Hi, you've reached Kid and Nighty - we're not home right now, so talk into our robot and he'll tell us all about it later.
[Kid pushes four buttons on his screen's touchpad.]
Iceberg-Six: Hello. This is Iceberg-Six. May I have your login?
Kid Phantasm: Eye-Six; login. This is Kid Phantasm.
Iceberg-Six: Welcome, user 'Kid Phantasm'. GPS readings indicate that you are currently in Tokyo, Japan. Would you like me to find you airfare, or perhaps hotel accomodations?
Kid Phantasm: No thank you, Eye-Six.
Iceberg-Six: You have five messages. Would you like to hear them now?
Kid Phantasm: No time for talk, Eye-Six. I'm putting you on speaker - I need you to live translate Nightmare into Japanese.
Iceberg-Six: Error: 'Nightmare' not a language found on file.
Nightmare: He means me, Eye-Six.
Iceberg-Six: Welcome, user 'Nightmare'. Is user 'Kid Phantasm' correct regarding your need for translation to Japanese?
Nightmare: Absolutely, Eye-Six. Ready when you are.
Iceberg-Six: Now translating.
[Nightmare turns to a crowd, holding Phantasm's phone above her head as if she'd just captured a piece of the Triforce...]
Nightmare (shouting): Do any of you mother fuckers know where we can buy some weapons?
[At Nightmare's shout, the crowd stops. As Iceberg-Six translates, the crowd seem transfixed by its voice. All at once they point down an alley.]
Kid Phantasm: Wow. Remind me to bring Eye-Six next time I come over here. I get the feeling they'd pray to him like a god.
Nightmare: Yeah... you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?
Both: Free stuff.
Kid Phantasm: Exactly! Pray to your computer gods, Japanese people! When next we meet, we shall arrive with the golden bull-calf of netbook computers!
[Nightmare grabs Phantasm by the collar of his Jonny Fly t-shirt.]
Nightmare: To the armory!
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[Scene cuts to inside a shop; judging by the saws and drills in the foreground, we can assume it is a hardware store. Phantasm and Nightmare walk in and immediately go in opposite directions. We see the Kid approach a shelf of containers; he picks up a package of what look to be ball bearings.]
Kid Phantasm: Subtle and classic. After all, you can't fight if you can't stand up.
[Nightmare picks up a foot-long machete.]
Nightmare: I was thinking the same thing.
[Phantasm does a double-take at his girlfriend's blade. She drops it on a shelf and heads towards the back of the store in a hurry. The Kid gazes at a display of swords hung behind the counter - perhaps for show?]
Kid Phantasm: This might be a little overkill, baby. Though I have always wanted a wakizashi...
Nightmare: Phantasm, I'm about to be a girl at you really hard.
[He turns to see what has enthralled his tag partner... and laughs a little bit. There in a display case is a pair of black steel toed boots... complete with flame designs on the sides.]
Kid Phantasm: I don't believe it. I see it and I don't believe it.
Nightmare: Baby, please don't make me beg you for shoes.
Kid Phantasm: You want the shoes.
Nightmare: Need! I need those shoes.
Kid Phantasm: For one match? A match we might not even live through?
Nightmare: ...you wouldn't understand.
Kid Phantasm: Those shoes cost more than our house.
Nightmare: We live in a closet!
Kid Phantasm: Exactly.
[He smiles at her face, which is something only he would dare define as 'her cute angry'.]
Kid Phantasm: Don't try to wear them on the plane home.
[She smiles a sarcastic smile.]
Nightmare: Awww...
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[We follow the Kid outside, where we see him once again contacting Iceberg-Six on his smartphone. As he touches the screen he notices something in the shadows.]
Iceberg-Six: Welcome, user 'Kid Phantasm'. GPS data indicates you are still in Tokyo, Japan. Can I be of any assistance?
Kid Phantasm: Hello again, Eye-Six. I'm gonna need you to go ahead and prepare notes on opponents 'Kendrik Masters' and 'Oblivion' for us. The more I think about it, the more I think we might come back tonight... and when we get back to Pennsylvania we're gonna need strategy.
Iceberg-Six: Prepare notes per usual guidelines?
Kid Phantasm: Of course, Eye-Six. Also, as an addendum to the usual, could you include as much medical and psychological data as you can find on these two? If they've got a weak rib I want to know about it... if they've got a screw in an elbow, I want to know about it. If one of their mothers is color-blind, I want to know about it.
Iceberg-Six: Certainly. Operation should be completed within one hour. Shall I call this number when operation is completed?
Kid Phantasm: Negative, Eye-Six. We'll contact you in person... most likely within a day.
Iceberg-Six: Safe travels, user 'Kid Phantasm'.
Kid Phantasm: Yeah, you right.
[As he pockets his telephone, the shadows begin speaking to him... in perfect English.]
Voice: Talking phone, huh? I wish that was the weirdest thing I'd seen today.
Trenchcoated Man: I've seen so much weird shit since I got over here you wouldn't believe it. Back home they'd have parades seemingly just to stop traffic.... thought that was strange, but I got used to it. Over here I think shit just stays weird so nobody gets bored. I'd never get used to that.
[Phantasm has a look of confusion hung on his face.]
Kid Phantasm: Don't I know you? From New Orleans, maybe?
Trenchcoated Man: That'd be a good place to know me from, sure. Lucien Hicks. I used to write for the Times-Picayune once upon a time...
Kid Phantasm: Of course! You were the guy who got in all that trouble writing the piece about how Mayor Nagin was right.
Lucien Hicks: They won't say that's what got me fired, but it sure didn't help.
[The two men shake hands.]
Kid Phantasm: What the hell are you doing here, man? Long way from New Orleans.
Lucien Hicks: Needed to get pretty far away from there... at least for a little while. It's a long story involving a girl, a dozen microdots of mescaline, Mardi Gras and a restraining order.
Kid Phantasm: In that order, too, I'll bet. Man, that makes me miss home... shit, I was starting to see New Orleans here. Doesn't this place look like if New Orleans was from outer space to you?
[Lucien laughs as he looks around him.]
Lucien Hicks: Not at the moment... but I know what you mean. They got a god damn monorail here.
Kid Phantasm: That's what I'm saying!
Lucien Hicks: This place is strange, man. I came over about a week ago with these mixed martial-arts guys... I've been doing a piece for this Internet news journo about bloodsports, you know - they want me to go out and find some for-real Jean Claude Van Dammes and interview 'em. They keep tellin' me my check's in the mail... but how the fuck would I know? I'm in god damn Japan. Long way from Mid-City.
[The Kid thinks for a second.]
Kid Phantasm: Bloodsports, eh? I think I might have your story for you, man... if you don't mind taking a ride back to the 'states with us.
[The door opens and out comes Nightmare, excitedly holding a large heavy shoe box.]
Nightmare: Armed to the toes, baby! Who's the coat?
Lucien Hicks: I'm just a reporter, lady.
Kid Phantasm: This dude used to work for the Times-Pic back in New Orleans... and I think he's gonna write a story about us.
Nightmare: Huh? What's he doing here? Oh, sorry. Nightmare. Nice to meet you.
[She curtsies, swinging her shoe box viciously behind her as she does.]
Kid Phantasm: And I'm Kid Phantasm. We're the Unstable Elements.
Lucien Hicks: What are you guys, super-heroes?
Nightmare: No, worse than that. We're professional wrestlers.
Kid Phantasm: This Sunday we're fighting two overgrown maniacs in a hardcore-rules match in Pennsylvania.
Lucien Hicks: WCF? That's the big show, man. Local boy done good, huh?
Kid Phantasm: Shit, I'm not celebrating till I live through this weekend.
Lucien Hicks: That bad, huh?
[Lucien takes a long drag on his cigarette, then pitches it.]
Lucien Hicks: Tell you what... fuck Japan. I lost the MMA guys two days ago and I can't figure out who might sell me drugs here. This place is unseemly. I'm not used to people in costumes being uptight or proper, and it's fucking with my head. I'm in.
Nightmare: He's in. Wait, for what? What about XIII?
Kid Phantasm: Fly can handle himself... we've got business to attend to.
[The Kid pulls his phone back out and once again attempts to summon his computer. Lucien gives Nightmare an appreciative look.]
Lucien Hicks: You're a wrestler, girl?
Nightmare: I sure am. And I don't care where you're from - you call me girl again and you'll be smoking through a hole in your neck.
[She smiles brightly. Hicks reels a bit.]
Iceberg-Six: Welcome, user 'Kid Phantasm'. GPS data indicates-
Kid Phantasm: Eye-Six, I need three tickets out of here. First thing smoking.
Iceberg-Six: Certainly. The next available flight out of Tokyo is in two hours sixteen minutes. Would you like me to book three passengers?
Kid Phantasm: Yes, Eye-Six. That's perfect. We'll see you in hours, not days.
Iceberg-Six: Safe travels, user 'Kid Phantasm'.
[Phantasm pockets his phone.]
Lucien Hicks: Y'all even got a talking computer. Shit. I *would* be sober for this.
Nightmare: Nothing more sobering than preparing for war. That's what this is gonna be, Hicks - war. You wanna roll with us? You better be ready for some good old-fashioned combat journalism.
Kid Phantasm: That's right... which means we've got an entrenched journalist to brief.
Nightmare: Can I just try on my new shoes?
Kid Phantasm: Later, baby. The new guy needs an education.
[The three head down the street, unsure of which direction leads home.]
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From the files of Lucien Hicks, Renegade Reporter:
In all my years in New Orleans, I thought I'd seen everything - I'd seen a policeman riding a horse almost get trampled by a Shriner riding an elephant. I'd seen flood waters tear a house clean out of the ground and run it into the house next door, making something akin to an Escher print out of two families' homes. I'd seen an entire city rally around a football team as if they were a conquering army. But nothing in my thirty-three years could have prepared me for Tokyo, Japan. Japan is a wild yet tamed place... for every ounce of its sheer and unadulterated weirdness there is an equal sense of calm. It's almost as if every day is Halloween but no one seems celebrating, and any candy you might receive is made of tofu (and therefore inedible to all but the heartiest of souls). If strange were a competition, the Japanese would win hands-down. If the place weren't so damn beautiful I'd just recommend staying home. Of course that's rarely a luxury afforded a journalist... I must say, all things considered, that if one were pressed to be stuck on an island nation, one could do much worse than Japan. But be warned: nothing can prepare you for the Japanese. Take it from a man who'd spent years seeing the oddest parts of the oddest city in the United States as part of his job... Japan's a whole 'nother planet.
I was sent over there to cover a mixed martial-arts tournament, but I'll admit to skipping out on it in the hopes of finding some hallucinogenic drugs. I'd incorrectly assumed that a country that spends this much time dressing like an acid trip might occasionally take one, and once I'd found a place that would sell me a translation guide I also found a nicely translated card explaining to me just how grievous the nation considers drug use. Needless to say I was ready to leave... I heard a ruckus from around a bend, and following it led me to two fellow lost souls trying desperately to make any sense of the city they'd found themselves in. These two were Americans - even better, the man was a New Orleanian. Even better than that, they were professional wrestlers in town for some big wrestling match at the Tokyo Dome... and the best part of all was that they were leaving and would take me with them. Mt. Fuji had never looked as beautiful as it did from thirty thousand feet.
The two wrestlers are an odd pair to say the least; aside from being a bit undersized (you'd expect 'professional wrestlers' to be swollen beastly men covered in steroid-abuse telltales) they were the first tag team I'd ever heard of who are actually a functioning man-woman couple. I couldn't say if that closeness might give them any sort of advantage in the ring, though one could assume... but I will say that it has definitely helped them to be of the same mind when it comes to an interview. Even when they disagreed with each other they were just speaking to both sides of the same story. And though their story spoke to their desire for victory and their voices told of a thirst for blood, their body language told me that they were very much in love. They're the strangest couple I've ever met. She's full of rage and he's full of ideas... I think it's safe to say that I very much like my new friends.
On the plane ride back to the USA, my new friends told me all about WCF and its ins-and-outs. They had apparently just begun working there a few weeks before, both having done some time in the Global Extreme Wrestling promotion back in New Orleans; both having done some time in its Deathmatch Title division, more specifically. I asked them to explain 'hardcore' wrestling to me; he (Kid Phantasm, as he is known) explained that the more extreme matches are for the fans first and foremost. Some fans want the blood and gore... some fans want the most innovative and creative violence they can get for their dollar. His explanation made it sound like wrestling matches could be compared to action movies; your usual fare would be your Rambo or your Death Wish, let's say, while your 'hardcore' fare would be more like a dubbed kung-fu movie. More like Bloodsport, so to say. After spending a week chasing after mixed martial-artists, I felt genuinely stupid for not considering American hardcore wrestling as the basis for my article. She (Nightmare) added that for her, 'hardcore' wrestling is where she feels most comfortable... when I asked her if she was crazy for requesting an all-weapons-legal match against two men who each almost outweigh the pair of them, she responded that it would always be dangerous for them to wrestle larger combatants - having an arsenal of weapons at her disposal evens the odds quite a bit. Phantasm added that with some strategy and a few tools they could figure out how to conquer giants, perhaps as easily as with a well-placed chairshot. Their commitment to their craft... their commitment to what they called their 'mission'... it was infectious. By the time we landed in the US, I myself wanted to strap on boots and throw in with these two against these so-called 'Angels of Death'. They always warned me of the dangers of combat journalism - don't get captured, they said, and don't join any causes. Just tell the stories.
This reporter has a feeling that these two would be full of stories.
As our plane landed, I asked a few closing questions... I asked if they could guarantee victory Sunday in their match. He said no, but she resoundingly said yes. I asked if they knew anywhere in Reading where one could score some... 'journalist's medication'. She said no, but he said he'd figure something out. Lastly I asked them if they thought they could get me a job in Reading. Kid's answer was worth repeating... "Things just kinda seem to work out like that around here." In twenty-four hours I went from being lost in translation to being found in Pennsylvania. Where these two are concerned, things do just kinda seem to work out. Let's hope for the sake of these two young lovers that things continue to work out through this Sunday... the world could use a few more people like Phantasm and Nightmare. It could certainly stand to keep the two it's got, at the very least.
[(c) Wrestling Championship Federation 2012. The views of Kid Phantasm and Nightmare are not those of WCF or any of its affiliates or sponsors.]
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UNSTABLE ELEMENTS #2: "Tokyo Drifters"
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[Scene: the lobby of a swanky hotel in Tokyo, Japan. A strange mixture of kids dressed as punks, older men in business suits and people wearing clashing American attire push around the busy lobby. Kid Phantasm and Nightmare stand amidst the confusion wearing street clothes (he's wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt reading "Spoiler Alert: Fly wins at the end"; Nightmare is wearing black trackpants and a red t-shirt that says "Expelled from clown college". It has a picture of a pile of dead clowns on it.) Phantasm has a look of utter heartbreak on his face... and somehow, in his voice.]
Kid Phantasm: Why in the world would you ASK them for a hardcore match? With fucking Oblivion of all people!
Nightmare: It's not that big of a deal. Look at it this way - it's a chance for us to earn some respect while getting bloody like we used to. You remember New Orleans, right?
Kid Phantasm: I'm being reminded of it right the fuck now.
[They look up and see a vending machine selling what appear to be alcoholic beverages.]
Kid Phantasm: This place is what New Orleans would be like if New Orleans was from outer space.
Nightmare: Wow. Yeah, now that you mention it...
Kid Phantasm: -seriously, a hardcore match? With Oblivion?!
Nightmare: What's the big deal? He's just some dude.
Kid Phantasm: You remember the roster work-up you had Eye-Six read us? You remember the file on Oblivion? He's a LEGIT MURDERER. That dude has killed people. Not person, PEOPLE. Legend has it he eats one of his fans every week to put something where his soul should be.
Nightmare: So he's a psycho. Whatever. The 'fed's full of psychos. Shit, you've got three of them holding belts right now! There's no better way for us to further our agenda of taking this company back for professional wrestling than to take down the Hardcore Champion at his own game. Am I right?
[Phantasm considers her logic. He mumbles a response.]
Nightmare: What was that, baby?
Kid Phantasm (louder): We're gonna need weapons.
[Nightmare hugs him in a giant embrace.]
Nightmare: That's my man! Now, where can we buy power tools around here? I wanna go Mrs. Pogo on these fools.
[Phantasm's face shows a look of pure dread.]
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[Scene: the streets of Tokyo, Japan. Outside, much as in the lobby, no one really seems to pay the small-statured-and-normally-dressed Americans any mind. Kid Phantasm gazes about with a look of wonder plainly etched on his face. Nightmare peers in shop windows, frantically looking for any sign of sharp objects for sale.]
Kid Phantasm: Look at this shit - it's just like outer space New Orleans. Instead of a streetcar they've got a god-damned monorail. It's a straight up Simpsons episode over here.
Nightmare: What street is this?
Kid Phantasm: I think in Japan they don't name the streets, they name the blocks.
Nightmare: Well what block is this?
Kid Phantasm: How the hell should I know? The signs are all in Japanese. Seriously, check out this monorail! It's like we're at fuckin' EPCOT Center!
[Nightmare tries to stop a kindly woman, but no dice.]
Nightmare: Excuse us, we're looking for- damnit. Hey, sir!
[She taps an old man waiting for the train on the shoulder. He looks up briefly, then back to his station as the train silently glides to a stop before him.]
Nightmare: Amazing. This town's full of assholes. Now it feels like Los Angeles.
Kid Phantasm: Think I've figured out your problem... and maybe even how to solve it.
[Kid pulls out his smartphone. With a few touches, he begins ringing a line...]
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[Scene: WCF Arena (Reading, Pennsylvania); more specifically, the utility closet we've come to know as 'Polar Base'. The room is empty save for its usual menagerie of decorations and housewares... and save for one piece of electronic equipment. Iceberg-Six sits at its perch, connected to the 'brain' of the WCF Arena through a system of wires and cables. On its screen a message pops up reading 'Incoming Call'. On the fourth ring, the call is answered.]
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[...and as that line is answered, he hears a familiar voice.]
Kid Phantasm (voice): Hi, you've reached Kid and Nighty - we're not home right now, so talk into our robot and he'll tell us all about it later.
[Kid pushes four buttons on his screen's touchpad.]
Iceberg-Six: Hello. This is Iceberg-Six. May I have your login?
Kid Phantasm: Eye-Six; login. This is Kid Phantasm.
Iceberg-Six: Welcome, user 'Kid Phantasm'. GPS readings indicate that you are currently in Tokyo, Japan. Would you like me to find you airfare, or perhaps hotel accomodations?
Kid Phantasm: No thank you, Eye-Six.
Iceberg-Six: You have five messages. Would you like to hear them now?
Kid Phantasm: No time for talk, Eye-Six. I'm putting you on speaker - I need you to live translate Nightmare into Japanese.
Iceberg-Six: Error: 'Nightmare' not a language found on file.
Nightmare: He means me, Eye-Six.
Iceberg-Six: Welcome, user 'Nightmare'. Is user 'Kid Phantasm' correct regarding your need for translation to Japanese?
Nightmare: Absolutely, Eye-Six. Ready when you are.
Iceberg-Six: Now translating.
[Nightmare turns to a crowd, holding Phantasm's phone above her head as if she'd just captured a piece of the Triforce...]
Nightmare (shouting): Do any of you mother fuckers know where we can buy some weapons?
[At Nightmare's shout, the crowd stops. As Iceberg-Six translates, the crowd seem transfixed by its voice. All at once they point down an alley.]
Kid Phantasm: Wow. Remind me to bring Eye-Six next time I come over here. I get the feeling they'd pray to him like a god.
Nightmare: Yeah... you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?
Both: Free stuff.
Kid Phantasm: Exactly! Pray to your computer gods, Japanese people! When next we meet, we shall arrive with the golden bull-calf of netbook computers!
[Nightmare grabs Phantasm by the collar of his Jonny Fly t-shirt.]
Nightmare: To the armory!
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[Scene cuts to inside a shop; judging by the saws and drills in the foreground, we can assume it is a hardware store. Phantasm and Nightmare walk in and immediately go in opposite directions. We see the Kid approach a shelf of containers; he picks up a package of what look to be ball bearings.]
Kid Phantasm: Subtle and classic. After all, you can't fight if you can't stand up.
[Nightmare picks up a foot-long machete.]
Nightmare: I was thinking the same thing.
[Phantasm does a double-take at his girlfriend's blade. She drops it on a shelf and heads towards the back of the store in a hurry. The Kid gazes at a display of swords hung behind the counter - perhaps for show?]
Kid Phantasm: This might be a little overkill, baby. Though I have always wanted a wakizashi...
Nightmare: Phantasm, I'm about to be a girl at you really hard.
[He turns to see what has enthralled his tag partner... and laughs a little bit. There in a display case is a pair of black steel toed boots... complete with flame designs on the sides.]
Kid Phantasm: I don't believe it. I see it and I don't believe it.
Nightmare: Baby, please don't make me beg you for shoes.
Kid Phantasm: You want the shoes.
Nightmare: Need! I need those shoes.
Kid Phantasm: For one match? A match we might not even live through?
Nightmare: ...you wouldn't understand.
Kid Phantasm: Those shoes cost more than our house.
Nightmare: We live in a closet!
Kid Phantasm: Exactly.
[He smiles at her face, which is something only he would dare define as 'her cute angry'.]
Kid Phantasm: Don't try to wear them on the plane home.
[She smiles a sarcastic smile.]
Nightmare: Awww...
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[We follow the Kid outside, where we see him once again contacting Iceberg-Six on his smartphone. As he touches the screen he notices something in the shadows.]
Iceberg-Six: Welcome, user 'Kid Phantasm'. GPS data indicates you are still in Tokyo, Japan. Can I be of any assistance?
Kid Phantasm: Hello again, Eye-Six. I'm gonna need you to go ahead and prepare notes on opponents 'Kendrik Masters' and 'Oblivion' for us. The more I think about it, the more I think we might come back tonight... and when we get back to Pennsylvania we're gonna need strategy.
Iceberg-Six: Prepare notes per usual guidelines?
Kid Phantasm: Of course, Eye-Six. Also, as an addendum to the usual, could you include as much medical and psychological data as you can find on these two? If they've got a weak rib I want to know about it... if they've got a screw in an elbow, I want to know about it. If one of their mothers is color-blind, I want to know about it.
Iceberg-Six: Certainly. Operation should be completed within one hour. Shall I call this number when operation is completed?
Kid Phantasm: Negative, Eye-Six. We'll contact you in person... most likely within a day.
Iceberg-Six: Safe travels, user 'Kid Phantasm'.
Kid Phantasm: Yeah, you right.
[As he pockets his telephone, the shadows begin speaking to him... in perfect English.]
Voice: Talking phone, huh? I wish that was the weirdest thing I'd seen today.
Trenchcoated Man: I've seen so much weird shit since I got over here you wouldn't believe it. Back home they'd have parades seemingly just to stop traffic.... thought that was strange, but I got used to it. Over here I think shit just stays weird so nobody gets bored. I'd never get used to that.
[Phantasm has a look of confusion hung on his face.]
Kid Phantasm: Don't I know you? From New Orleans, maybe?
Trenchcoated Man: That'd be a good place to know me from, sure. Lucien Hicks. I used to write for the Times-Picayune once upon a time...
Kid Phantasm: Of course! You were the guy who got in all that trouble writing the piece about how Mayor Nagin was right.
Lucien Hicks: They won't say that's what got me fired, but it sure didn't help.
[The two men shake hands.]
Kid Phantasm: What the hell are you doing here, man? Long way from New Orleans.
Lucien Hicks: Needed to get pretty far away from there... at least for a little while. It's a long story involving a girl, a dozen microdots of mescaline, Mardi Gras and a restraining order.
Kid Phantasm: In that order, too, I'll bet. Man, that makes me miss home... shit, I was starting to see New Orleans here. Doesn't this place look like if New Orleans was from outer space to you?
[Lucien laughs as he looks around him.]
Lucien Hicks: Not at the moment... but I know what you mean. They got a god damn monorail here.
Kid Phantasm: That's what I'm saying!
Lucien Hicks: This place is strange, man. I came over about a week ago with these mixed martial-arts guys... I've been doing a piece for this Internet news journo about bloodsports, you know - they want me to go out and find some for-real Jean Claude Van Dammes and interview 'em. They keep tellin' me my check's in the mail... but how the fuck would I know? I'm in god damn Japan. Long way from Mid-City.
[The Kid thinks for a second.]
Kid Phantasm: Bloodsports, eh? I think I might have your story for you, man... if you don't mind taking a ride back to the 'states with us.
[The door opens and out comes Nightmare, excitedly holding a large heavy shoe box.]
Nightmare: Armed to the toes, baby! Who's the coat?
Lucien Hicks: I'm just a reporter, lady.
Kid Phantasm: This dude used to work for the Times-Pic back in New Orleans... and I think he's gonna write a story about us.
Nightmare: Huh? What's he doing here? Oh, sorry. Nightmare. Nice to meet you.
[She curtsies, swinging her shoe box viciously behind her as she does.]
Kid Phantasm: And I'm Kid Phantasm. We're the Unstable Elements.
Lucien Hicks: What are you guys, super-heroes?
Nightmare: No, worse than that. We're professional wrestlers.
Kid Phantasm: This Sunday we're fighting two overgrown maniacs in a hardcore-rules match in Pennsylvania.
Lucien Hicks: WCF? That's the big show, man. Local boy done good, huh?
Kid Phantasm: Shit, I'm not celebrating till I live through this weekend.
Lucien Hicks: That bad, huh?
[Lucien takes a long drag on his cigarette, then pitches it.]
Lucien Hicks: Tell you what... fuck Japan. I lost the MMA guys two days ago and I can't figure out who might sell me drugs here. This place is unseemly. I'm not used to people in costumes being uptight or proper, and it's fucking with my head. I'm in.
Nightmare: He's in. Wait, for what? What about XIII?
Kid Phantasm: Fly can handle himself... we've got business to attend to.
[The Kid pulls his phone back out and once again attempts to summon his computer. Lucien gives Nightmare an appreciative look.]
Lucien Hicks: You're a wrestler, girl?
Nightmare: I sure am. And I don't care where you're from - you call me girl again and you'll be smoking through a hole in your neck.
[She smiles brightly. Hicks reels a bit.]
Iceberg-Six: Welcome, user 'Kid Phantasm'. GPS data indicates-
Kid Phantasm: Eye-Six, I need three tickets out of here. First thing smoking.
Iceberg-Six: Certainly. The next available flight out of Tokyo is in two hours sixteen minutes. Would you like me to book three passengers?
Kid Phantasm: Yes, Eye-Six. That's perfect. We'll see you in hours, not days.
Iceberg-Six: Safe travels, user 'Kid Phantasm'.
[Phantasm pockets his phone.]
Lucien Hicks: Y'all even got a talking computer. Shit. I *would* be sober for this.
Nightmare: Nothing more sobering than preparing for war. That's what this is gonna be, Hicks - war. You wanna roll with us? You better be ready for some good old-fashioned combat journalism.
Kid Phantasm: That's right... which means we've got an entrenched journalist to brief.
Nightmare: Can I just try on my new shoes?
Kid Phantasm: Later, baby. The new guy needs an education.
[The three head down the street, unsure of which direction leads home.]
-----------------------------------------------------------
From the files of Lucien Hicks, Renegade Reporter:
In all my years in New Orleans, I thought I'd seen everything - I'd seen a policeman riding a horse almost get trampled by a Shriner riding an elephant. I'd seen flood waters tear a house clean out of the ground and run it into the house next door, making something akin to an Escher print out of two families' homes. I'd seen an entire city rally around a football team as if they were a conquering army. But nothing in my thirty-three years could have prepared me for Tokyo, Japan. Japan is a wild yet tamed place... for every ounce of its sheer and unadulterated weirdness there is an equal sense of calm. It's almost as if every day is Halloween but no one seems celebrating, and any candy you might receive is made of tofu (and therefore inedible to all but the heartiest of souls). If strange were a competition, the Japanese would win hands-down. If the place weren't so damn beautiful I'd just recommend staying home. Of course that's rarely a luxury afforded a journalist... I must say, all things considered, that if one were pressed to be stuck on an island nation, one could do much worse than Japan. But be warned: nothing can prepare you for the Japanese. Take it from a man who'd spent years seeing the oddest parts of the oddest city in the United States as part of his job... Japan's a whole 'nother planet.
I was sent over there to cover a mixed martial-arts tournament, but I'll admit to skipping out on it in the hopes of finding some hallucinogenic drugs. I'd incorrectly assumed that a country that spends this much time dressing like an acid trip might occasionally take one, and once I'd found a place that would sell me a translation guide I also found a nicely translated card explaining to me just how grievous the nation considers drug use. Needless to say I was ready to leave... I heard a ruckus from around a bend, and following it led me to two fellow lost souls trying desperately to make any sense of the city they'd found themselves in. These two were Americans - even better, the man was a New Orleanian. Even better than that, they were professional wrestlers in town for some big wrestling match at the Tokyo Dome... and the best part of all was that they were leaving and would take me with them. Mt. Fuji had never looked as beautiful as it did from thirty thousand feet.
The two wrestlers are an odd pair to say the least; aside from being a bit undersized (you'd expect 'professional wrestlers' to be swollen beastly men covered in steroid-abuse telltales) they were the first tag team I'd ever heard of who are actually a functioning man-woman couple. I couldn't say if that closeness might give them any sort of advantage in the ring, though one could assume... but I will say that it has definitely helped them to be of the same mind when it comes to an interview. Even when they disagreed with each other they were just speaking to both sides of the same story. And though their story spoke to their desire for victory and their voices told of a thirst for blood, their body language told me that they were very much in love. They're the strangest couple I've ever met. She's full of rage and he's full of ideas... I think it's safe to say that I very much like my new friends.
On the plane ride back to the USA, my new friends told me all about WCF and its ins-and-outs. They had apparently just begun working there a few weeks before, both having done some time in the Global Extreme Wrestling promotion back in New Orleans; both having done some time in its Deathmatch Title division, more specifically. I asked them to explain 'hardcore' wrestling to me; he (Kid Phantasm, as he is known) explained that the more extreme matches are for the fans first and foremost. Some fans want the blood and gore... some fans want the most innovative and creative violence they can get for their dollar. His explanation made it sound like wrestling matches could be compared to action movies; your usual fare would be your Rambo or your Death Wish, let's say, while your 'hardcore' fare would be more like a dubbed kung-fu movie. More like Bloodsport, so to say. After spending a week chasing after mixed martial-artists, I felt genuinely stupid for not considering American hardcore wrestling as the basis for my article. She (Nightmare) added that for her, 'hardcore' wrestling is where she feels most comfortable... when I asked her if she was crazy for requesting an all-weapons-legal match against two men who each almost outweigh the pair of them, she responded that it would always be dangerous for them to wrestle larger combatants - having an arsenal of weapons at her disposal evens the odds quite a bit. Phantasm added that with some strategy and a few tools they could figure out how to conquer giants, perhaps as easily as with a well-placed chairshot. Their commitment to their craft... their commitment to what they called their 'mission'... it was infectious. By the time we landed in the US, I myself wanted to strap on boots and throw in with these two against these so-called 'Angels of Death'. They always warned me of the dangers of combat journalism - don't get captured, they said, and don't join any causes. Just tell the stories.
This reporter has a feeling that these two would be full of stories.
As our plane landed, I asked a few closing questions... I asked if they could guarantee victory Sunday in their match. He said no, but she resoundingly said yes. I asked if they knew anywhere in Reading where one could score some... 'journalist's medication'. She said no, but he said he'd figure something out. Lastly I asked them if they thought they could get me a job in Reading. Kid's answer was worth repeating... "Things just kinda seem to work out like that around here." In twenty-four hours I went from being lost in translation to being found in Pennsylvania. Where these two are concerned, things do just kinda seem to work out. Let's hope for the sake of these two young lovers that things continue to work out through this Sunday... the world could use a few more people like Phantasm and Nightmare. It could certainly stand to keep the two it's got, at the very least.
[(c) Wrestling Championship Federation 2012. The views of Kid Phantasm and Nightmare are not those of WCF or any of its affiliates or sponsors.]