Post by Steve Orbit on Jan 16, 2016 18:50:25 GMT -5
EARLIER THIS WEEK
Scene opens on a busy side street in Oakland, California. It's clearly not the most wonderful part of town-- there's junkies on the corner. People fighting and throwing dice against cardboard on the wall, a filthy lady pushing a shopping cart filled with all of her belongings. Some shitbox cars roll by... until one car stands out from the rest. It's a baby blue old school Cadillac, chromed out, clean. The car pulls up on to the curb in front of a building, and the rumble of the engine is killed.
Mauri alligator shoes hit the concrete.
Steve Orbit, dressed in a lavender suit and covered in gold, walks into his gentleman's club slash brothel-on-the-low, Club Violet. The Club is currently closed as it's before business hours. Orbit stops inside the front hall, as two full-figured, scantily clad women approach. One takes Orbit's coat. The other hands him a drink. With no words, only a nod, the girls kiss him on the cheek and leave to go about their business. He walks through the main floor of the Club, carefully eyeing the main stage, the poles. He walks to the main bar and runs his finger underneath, inspecting it's cleanliness. Satisfied, he continues walking to the far end of the room where there are stairs heading up to the second floor.
He reaches the second floor which is the VIP area. Much more stylish and comfortable than downstairs, there are recessed lights, beautifully upholstered couches, and lots of corner nooks and booths which provide a more private and secluded VIP experience. In the middle of the room, there is a hall which is guarded by a velvet rope. During business hours, there would be two of the Club's most decorated bouncers keeping an eye on it, but now, it's as simple as unhooking the rope. Orbit walks down the hall, past two sets of numbered doors on either side of the hall, and reaches the purple door with the gold handle at the end of the hall. The door with his name etched into the gold plate.
Orbit opens the door to his office... only, it's not the same as the last time we saw it, many months ago. Gone are the WCF memorabilia-- the posters, the replica title belts, et cetera. Gone are the photos of Steve with various celebrities and adult film stars who had visited the Club. Instead, we see a rather plain looking office with bare walls... and a white girl behind the desk.
What?!
Orbit closes the door behind him and takes a seat in the leather chair, across from his own desk which is currently occupied.
The girl is in her late 20s. She's wearing some straight up business attire, navy blue in color. Thin with dark hair wrapped into a bun, held together with a pencil. She has dark lipstick and big brown eyes with glasses-- somewhat of an exotic look about her.
Steve Orbit: Place looks great.
The girl looks up from a stack of paperwork. She speaks with a slight Eastern European accent-- Russian, Bulgarian perhaps.
Girl: That's what happens when you hire a professional cleaning company. Instead of forcing your employees to do it.
Steve Orbit: Pssh, those bitches love to clean.
She shakes her head, and her glare returns to the papers on the desk.
Girl: No, they don't. They hated it, just like they hated washing your car, cooking your meals, polishing your title belts-- they did those things because they thought it would make you happy.
Orbit smiles and shrugs.
Steve Orbit: It did make me happy.
Girl: Well, you are not the one making the decisions around here anymore. You want things to become cleaner, safer, more professional-- then you leave it up to professionals. Besides, now the girls have more energy to dance, and flirt, and... and whatever else they do around here.
Steve Orbit: Yeah. I s'pose that's true.
Orbit takes a peice of hard candy out of the dish on his/her desk. He unwraps it and puts it in his mouth.
Steve Orbit: So you, uh... need anything? From me?
The girl looks up from the paperwork once again. This time, she removes her glasses and stares a hole into the core of Orbit's being.
Girl: No. I have everything under control. And I'm very busy. I'd appreciate it if you called me next time before stopping by.
Steve Orbit: Yo...
Orbit's natural instinct almost takes over. He stops himself from verbally berating and/or physically beating the girl that sits before him, taking a deep breath and cutting himself off.
Steve Orbit: This is still my business. You work for me, you know.
Girl: That is correct. So if you would allow me to work I will appreciate it.
A moment of silence, with their eyes locked. Both standing their ground.
Girl: Please. Mister Orbit.
Orbit grins at the show of respect. He stands, taking another peice of candy off the desk, and putting it in his mouth.
Steve Orbit: Keep up the good work.
Orbit turns to exit the office. As he turns around, the girl rolls her eyes. She puts her glasses back on and focuses on the paperwork once again. Orbit leaves the office and we fade out.
==
THE NEXT DAY
Fade in to what appears to be a chain-style gym in Raliegh, North Carolina. The logo is blurred, because Steve Orbit don't advertise for free, you know what I'm sayin'? We see a few clips of people lifting (bro), running on treadmills, and normal gym workout stuff.
Cut to the front entrance of the gym. We see none other than "The Antidote" Spencer Adams, sitting on a couch with his gym bag in his lap. He taps his foot, checks his watch. We watch him for a few moments, until... his tag team partner for the week, "The Mack" Steve Orbit, walks through the entrance. He's alone, wearing a zebra suit and his usual pimped out stuff. He is also carrying a gym back. He walks through the door and looks around, as if looking for somebody.
Orbit looks directly at Spencer-- and then quickly turns around to speak with the gym employee currently manning the front desk.
Steve Orbit: Excuse me. I'm supposed to meet somebody here, but I'm late and I was wondering if they left a message for me here. You probably recognize me--
The young man's eyes widen.
Gym Employee: Aren't you... uh, that rapper?! Holy craps!
Orbit leans over the desk, getting closer to the employee.
Steve Orbit: I'm Steve Orbit.
No response.
Steve Orbit: The Mack. One of the most important names in pro wrestling in the last decade.
The kid scoffs at the mention of pro wrestling.
Gym Employee: Sorry buddy, I don't watch that stuff.
Steve Orbit: Oh yeah? What do you watch... let me guess. Kardashians, Love and Hip Hop, all that fake bullshit--
At this moment, Spencer Adams approaches the desk.
Spencer Adams: Steve, I'm here. I'm right here, I've been waiting over there all along.
Orbit turns to face Adams.
Steve Orbit: Oh, shit! I didn't recognize you without all the make-up and shit.
Spencer Adams: Face paint.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, whatever. Say man, I'm starvin'. Let's go get a bite-- my limo driver told me about a bangin' deli right up the street.
Spencer Adams: But we haven't even worked out yet! I've been waiting for over an hour and this match is very important to me, I think we should--
Orbit puts his hand up and cuts off Spencer.
Steve Orbit: Relax, homeboy. You rollin' with Steve Orbit now. I had some issues getting here, but I'm here now. It's real nice meetin' you, you know what I'm sayni', and we gon' work out all the gym stuff later, but right now I'm hungry as a mother fucker. I need a sammich or some chicken or somethin'.
Spencer sighs.
Spencer Adams: Fine. But then we are coming right back to this gym and putting in work.
Steve Orbit: You got it, man. Yeah.
Orbit and Spencer exit the gym, heading towards Orbit's limosuine parked outside.
==
A short time later, Orbit and Spencer are sitting in the corner booth of a deli. There are several boxes of food stacked on the table between them. A waitress is currently at their table, and we catch them in the middle of a conversation.
Steve Orbit: ... Aight, fine. Just bring me a water or somethin'.
Spencer Adams: Two waters.
The waitress smiles and leaves. Orbit turns to Spencer.
Steve Orbit: What's your problem man? You don't drink?
Spencer Adams: Not when I'm about to work out, and especially not when I'm about to try to coordinate a match with somebody who I've never worked with before!
Spencer is clearly annoyed with Orbit at this point. Orbit senses the bad vibes and decides to start a conversation.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, you right. I wasn't thinkin'. Anyway, I just wanna say it again-- I'm real happy to be workin' with you, homie. You're one of the guys who I've really, you know, paid attention to while I was out of the business last year. So I'm glad to have the opportunity to work with you this quickly upon returning.
Spencer Adams: The feeling is mutual. You're a legend, I'm definitely excited to work with you this week. Of course, there is also the matter of Fifteen at the end of the month.
Moment of silence. Staring contest.
Steve Orbit: Yeah... World title shot on the line in that one.
Dead serious between both of them... until Orbit is the one to finally grin and break the stare.
Steve Orbit: We can't even afford to be thinkin' that far ahead right now, bruh. If anything and you wanna bring that up, let's use this week to blow this thing out of the water and show everybody that Steve Orbit and Spencer Adams are the front runners in that Final Destination match. Show 'em how the other two mother fuckers are just takin' up space in our match.
Adams chuckles at the comment.
Spencer Adams: Yeah, a win this week would definitely help our case. How much do you know about Howard Black and Occulo?
Steve Orbit: I know they about to get Pimp Slapped the fuck up this week.
Spencer doesn't find that as amusing.
Spencer Adams: I'm being serious.
Steve Orbit: So am I.
Spencer Adams: Alright, well-- besides the Pimp Slaps, what do you know about them? We are going into this match with a clear disadvantage.
Orbit raises an eyebrow.
Steve Orbit: Oh yeah, how's that?
Spencer Adams: Howard and Occulo are a bonafide tag team! They know each other well, they know each other's styles. They're personal friends, former stablemates. Maybe current, I don't know what the heck is going on with the Sentinels but it's not important. What's important is, Howard Black and Occulo have been a force to be reckoned with every time they've tagged up. Just two weeks ago they won the Trios titles with Joey Flash.
Orbit finishes the last bite of his sandwich before answering.
Steve Orbit: Trios belts. Hmph. Worthless. How many Tag titles they got?
Spencer Adams: Well... none. Howard has one, actually, but not with Occulo. With Jay Omega.
Steve Orbit: Howard Black and Jay Omega? That's an odd pairing...
The camera freezes for a moment on Steve Orbit and Spencer Adams, as "odd pairing" echoes a few times.
Steve Orbit: Were they an official team? I missed a lot last year.
Spencer Adams: No, no. Ultimate Showdown. They won them at Ultimate Showdown.
Steve Orbit: Wait... you mean... Ha... HA... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
Orbit has fallen out of the booth onto the floor and is currently rolling on the floor laughing out loud. Spencer laughs to himself at Orbit's reaction, but stays composed.
Steve Orbit: Oh God. Oh God.
Orbit pulls himself back up into the seat.
Steve Orbit: Oh that's a good one, man. First you tell me that Howard Black and Occulo is some kinda great tag team. Then you tell me they ain't never had no Tag titles... and now you tellin' me that Howard Black had one at ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN. That's the consolation prize, my nigga. Thanks for comin'. That's literally last fuckin' place in Ultimate Showdown. So please, continue... how are they a great tag team again?
Spencer Adams: Titles aren't everything.
Steve Orbit: Uh-- speaking as somebody who has held damn near every title, twice, including the Tag belts-- I can tell you that yes, titles are everything in this business. Literally, fuckin' everything. Titles bring prestige, money, opportunity... legacies are creating and defined by title reigns in this business. Anybody can pull off a win, even a string of wins-- and apparently, anybody can win the tag belts by LOSING Ultimate Showdown. I guess that's besides the point, right?
Spencer Adams: It is. The point is that Howard Black and Occulo have won a lot more than they've lost. They are a strong as hell team, two rather badass guys who form a united front when together. They've beaten--
Steve Orbit: Let me stop you right there. I know you think highly of these guys, aight? That's cool. It's good to have respect for your fellow competitors and all that shit. I respect 'em too, but you talkin' like you thinkin' we can't run through these fools. I've done a little... minimal research, aight, and I know you've had trouble beating Howard in the past. You can't let that shit fuck with you though, especially not this week. You got STEVE ORBIT in your corner.
Orbit slams his hand on the table and puts his finger in Spencer's face.
Steve Orbit: Two time World champion. And even more importantly to you, two time TAG TEAM champion. When I first came to WCF, I couldn't work a tag match to save my career, aight? I sucked at tag matches. All it took was some practice-- and you'll get plenty of practice working tag matches with Seth at the helm-- and a few years later, I can say without a doubt that I am one of the baddest mother fuckin' tag team partners to have in this business. I don't give a fuck if I've worked with you before or not. You ain't gotta worry about having chemistry with me, none of that shit. Just follow my lead, homie, and we will NOT lose to Howard Black and Occulo. Stick with me and you can't lose, bruh.
Adams nods along, silently.
Steve Orbit: Look, I know-- you wanna be your own man, but who's the vet here? Who's got the Tag titles? There comes a point in a man's life when he's gotta decide if his pride is gonna--
Spencer cuts off Orbit.
Spencer Adams: Alright, I don't need the pep talk. I'm a former Tag champ as well, you know. But thanks anyway.
Steve Orbit: You sure? I mean, you the one soundin' like you scared of these mother fuckers.
Spencer Adams: I'm not scared! Of anyone, including YOU.
Moment of silence. Orbit grins, and offers his hand to Spencer.
Steve Orbit: That's what the fuck I like to hear. We gon' be aight this week, Spence.
Spencer shakes his hand.
Spencer Adams: Yeah, I think so too. You ready to get to work now?
Steve Orbit: Sure, yeah. I just got one more stop, this Strip Club I been wantin' to hit...
Spencer is about to be pissed, but-- Orbit laughs.
Steve Orbit: I'm just playin' man. Let's get back to the gym.
Orbit and Adams drop money on the table for the bill, and leave, heading back to the limosuine.
==
THAT NIGHT
Fade in to a hotel room. It's a regular room-- not the ultra-luxurious type of presidential suite that he used to rent once upon a time, and still may on occasion, but it's a regular king non-smoking room. He's OK with that. Even for a world-famous pro wrestler, pimp extroardinaire... sometimes it's nice to just blend in and do normal shit.
Orbit sat on the side of his bed, wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe, cell-phone in hand. He puts the phone to his ear.
Steve Orbit: ... Hey, it's Steve. ... Steve ORBIT. The owner of the fuckin' Club. Put Kamelia on the phone. ... Yeah, I been callin' her cell. Can't get her. The fuck is goin' on out there? ... Damn, it's that busy, huh? ... Aight, I'll try back. I'll try back later. Thanks.
Orbit ends the call. He breathes a deep sigh, before putting the phone to his ear once again.
Steve Orbit: ... ... Kami, Steve. Just you know, checkin' in. I got a show out here in North Carolina, but I'll be back in Oakland on Monday so... you know, if you need anything, call me. Otherwise I'll just stop by the Club when I get back. Aight? Call me if you need me.
He ends the call and he's about to put the phone onto the nightstand... instead he chooses to take a Black & Mild cigar from the drawer along with a lighter. He goes outside onto the balcony and lights the cigar. He takes a puff, and then sets his phone up to record, placing it on the chair next to him. He turns his chair to face the other one, and begins to cut a phone-camera promo.
Steve Orbit: What's up to all the WCF fans out there, this is Steve Orbit LIVE from the hotel room out here in Raliegh. I met with my tag partner for the week, mother fuckin' Spencer Adams today and we had a great workout, we worked on some real forward thinkin' futuristic type of tag team shit, you know what I'm sayin'? We put in that real work, I feel like we got each other's back this week. And I'm happy about that. Sometimes tag teams don't even make it one week before exploding, or imploding or whatever the case may be. But me and Spencer, even with this Final Destination shit hangin' over our heads, we 'gon be aight. We got that mutual understanding, baby.
Orbit pauses to take a puff of the Black & Mild.
Steve Orbit: A lot of people be askin' me, tweetin' me, whatever. They wanna know why am I back? Why now? I'ma tell you like this, there ain't no big, grand master plan. I ain't been sittin' back plottin' the perfect time to come back into this mother fucker. The truth is, it just... kinda happened. And the reason, the main reason I came back is for the mother fuckin' competition. You know what I'm sayin'. That's what I been missin' the most. I ain't gonna sit here and go into all kinda details about my personal business, at least not at this point in time, but I will say this-- I been workin' on steppin' away from the pimp game. I been doin' it for so long, I'm tired. Not tired of the money-- don't get me wrong, but I'm just tired of the life, tired of having five, six, ten girlfriends and they all need somethin' from me. And people wonder how I always got a brand new style of back hand for these mother fuckers, you try being there for multiple women, supporting them emotionally, physically and financially. Listening to all their problems and bullshit, comforting them, and everything else that comes along with a relationship. Y'all square mother fuckers can't handle one, let alone a God damn stable. You gotta be built for this shit, and I am. Damn right I am, through and through. But that don't mean I can't get tired just like everybody else.
Orbit again drags from the cigar.
Steve Orbit: So I handed over the reigns to couple of good folks I met through some mutual friends. Some Russian folks on some real business shit, some shit I can relate to. Kamelia is there day-to-day runnin' the joint with a couple of other mother fuckers working behind the scenes. They familiar with the strip club business, they know how to break these bitches, but they still need my guidance. They still need a nigga like me around there, a real pimp, you can believe that.
Orbit swallows hard, perhaps not totally convinced of the previous statement. He pulls off the cigar one last time before tapping it out in the ashtray.
Steve Orbit: But look, that's here nor there, I don't mean to bore y'all with my business life. I'm back in WCF, back performing in the ring. Back in the saddle. I told y'all I'm here for the competition and God damn if Seth didn't deliver that this week in the form of Howard mother fuckin' Black, and Occulo. I mean, between these two guys, plus you throw Spencer in the mix, I'ma have the honor of workin' with three of the hottest guys in the business right now. And I love that, I appreciate that, because I got somethin' to prove for the first time in a LONG time. I ain't a fuckin' fool. I know there's doubters out there, it's the same story anybody comes back to this mother fucker. They wanna know if I can "hang" with the current locker room.
Orbit chuckles.
Steve Orbit: I done hanged through three years of an ever changing and evolving locker room, you know what I'm sayin', and I think most of y'all would agree that I did just fine-- excelled, even. Made WCF my bitch, even. But still... here we are, a year later, and mother fuckers gon' be askin' if Steve Orbit can hang. So here we go-- my opportunity to show and prove. I'ma give all three of these mother fuckers a free lesson on how to be a mother fuckin' legend in the wrestling ring.
He nods, believing in his own words. He thinks for a moment before speaking again.
Steve Orbit: Howard Black. I vaguely remember this mother fucker from last year. His name was ringin' bells for a few months-- as far as I could tell, he was set up to be the next big thing... but then he got his arm broke. Snapped, actually, by my nigga Joey Flash Mali-nali or however the fuck it is. Injuries happen I guess... I mean, it ain't never happened to me, but you let this mother fucker snap your shit in half and you ain't did shit about it?
Orbit shakes his head.
Steve Orbit: Not only that-- you come back at One to save this nigga? To be on his Trios team? Congrats on those belts, by the way. Can't say they worth a squirt of piss, but congrats on that BIG win. Back to Flash though, somethin' is fishy here. I mean, maybe I missed something, but didn't you just sit on the sideline for half a year because of this mother fucker, and now you're friends? You either the dumbest mother fucker in WCF or it's all a plot to turn on Flash... and maybe Occulo too. I wonder how Occulo feels about all that? You think he trusts you? You think he's maybe wondering the same shit I am?
Orbit rubs his chin.
Steve Orbit: Aw, maybe I should cut it out with the conspiracy theories. I'm just tryin' to stir some shit up, right? Right. Thing is, me and Spencer... we know we about to throw down at the end of the month. There ain't no questions about allegience. Spencer Adams don't owe me shit after this match, and I don't owe him, and with that understanding we can stay on the same page for this week. Spencer is a smart guy, and a magnificent wrestler. I'm impressed with him and I think I pulled some shit out of him in the gym today that y'all ain't never seen before. Y'all might see a brand new Spencer Adams in that ring with Steve Orbit.
Orbit grins.
Steve Orbit: Back to Howard Black, though. This is one of those guys where his hype is off the mother fuckin' chart but his resume, his accomplishments just don't add up. The numbers don't add up. He had, what-- a TV title run, that's the ante to get into the mother fuckin' game around here, everybody knows that. Congrats, I had two TV title runs back to back and I beat two legends, two World Champions to get 'em. Howard, you had your shot at Ultimate Showdown. You shit the bed, homie. The pressure got to you and your card was pulled, you know what I'm sayin'? You were exposed, and you failed. Miserably. Matter of fact, where HAVE you succeeded around here, bruh? Cuz I can't see it. You mighta won some matches that nobody gave a fuck about, sure. And you got talent, I ain't denying that you got talent. You a family man-- a square, I can respect that to a point. I think you got a good heart. Man to man, I ain't got no problem with you, homie. But that don't mean I won't Pimp Slap your fuckin' face backwards in the middle of the ring.
Orbit nods and pauses, letting that sink it.
Steve Orbit: And Occulo, I mean, come on. Another one? Another spooky guy? Bruh-- eat some red meat, go outside in the mother fuckin' sun, get some vitamin D... you look fuckin' crazy, my nigga. No wonder you seein' shit and havin' visions and all this type of shit, you need a decent meal my dude. Ain't that his thing, visions and all that?
Orbit asks the camera as if expecting an answer.
Steve Orbit: I don't know. One thing I don't understand is why all these crazy mother fuckers decide they wanna be wrestlers. What they need is a mother fuckin' psychiatrist. And you too, Occulo. I mean, supposedly this guy just killed a man... shot his ass, BANG. I don't know if the voices told him to do it, or what. I can't figure out these type of mother fuckers and maybe I don't want to. I don't believe in any of that voodoo devil shit, you know what I'm sayin'? Keep it out of my ring. Occulo, you in the same boat as Howard. You came in with a buzz and then you dropped the mother fuckin' ball every time it came your way. Oh, I understand you was United States champion... for what, a week? A month?
Orbit mock claps.
Steve Orbit: Didn't quite break any records with that one, did you? The record that's held by ME for longest US title reign in WCF history. It's a common theme with both of y'all. Anything y'all done, I did it better, I did it harder, I did it longer... and that's just when I was warmin' up. Shit, I accomplished more in my first three months than y'all did in a year's time. And you can talk about eras, talk about whatever you want but at the end of the day I was able to do what I did because if I am not the baddest mother fucker to ever step into a WCF ring, then I'm damn sure one of the baddest. Occulo, Howard, it's not personal. I don't give a fuck about either one of y'all enough for it to be personal, but beyond that, y'all seem like some decent mother fuckers. So let's just be mother fuckin' gentlemen about this, y'all take your licks and keep on movin'. Y'all about to step into the ring with somebody who is operating on a higher level in every mother fuckin' way. And I'm pullin' it out of Spencer, too. He won't be able to help but go full speed when he's out there with a mother fucker like me.
Orbit chuckles to himself.
Steve Orbit: This is 'bout to be the second week in a row that y'all two get buried in the middle of the ring.
Orbit laughs some more at his own joke. He reaches for the phone and ends the recording. He gets up and heads back inside the hotel room as we fade out.
Scene opens on a busy side street in Oakland, California. It's clearly not the most wonderful part of town-- there's junkies on the corner. People fighting and throwing dice against cardboard on the wall, a filthy lady pushing a shopping cart filled with all of her belongings. Some shitbox cars roll by... until one car stands out from the rest. It's a baby blue old school Cadillac, chromed out, clean. The car pulls up on to the curb in front of a building, and the rumble of the engine is killed.
Mauri alligator shoes hit the concrete.
Steve Orbit, dressed in a lavender suit and covered in gold, walks into his gentleman's club slash brothel-on-the-low, Club Violet. The Club is currently closed as it's before business hours. Orbit stops inside the front hall, as two full-figured, scantily clad women approach. One takes Orbit's coat. The other hands him a drink. With no words, only a nod, the girls kiss him on the cheek and leave to go about their business. He walks through the main floor of the Club, carefully eyeing the main stage, the poles. He walks to the main bar and runs his finger underneath, inspecting it's cleanliness. Satisfied, he continues walking to the far end of the room where there are stairs heading up to the second floor.
He reaches the second floor which is the VIP area. Much more stylish and comfortable than downstairs, there are recessed lights, beautifully upholstered couches, and lots of corner nooks and booths which provide a more private and secluded VIP experience. In the middle of the room, there is a hall which is guarded by a velvet rope. During business hours, there would be two of the Club's most decorated bouncers keeping an eye on it, but now, it's as simple as unhooking the rope. Orbit walks down the hall, past two sets of numbered doors on either side of the hall, and reaches the purple door with the gold handle at the end of the hall. The door with his name etched into the gold plate.
Orbit opens the door to his office... only, it's not the same as the last time we saw it, many months ago. Gone are the WCF memorabilia-- the posters, the replica title belts, et cetera. Gone are the photos of Steve with various celebrities and adult film stars who had visited the Club. Instead, we see a rather plain looking office with bare walls... and a white girl behind the desk.
What?!
Orbit closes the door behind him and takes a seat in the leather chair, across from his own desk which is currently occupied.
The girl is in her late 20s. She's wearing some straight up business attire, navy blue in color. Thin with dark hair wrapped into a bun, held together with a pencil. She has dark lipstick and big brown eyes with glasses-- somewhat of an exotic look about her.
Steve Orbit: Place looks great.
The girl looks up from a stack of paperwork. She speaks with a slight Eastern European accent-- Russian, Bulgarian perhaps.
Girl: That's what happens when you hire a professional cleaning company. Instead of forcing your employees to do it.
Steve Orbit: Pssh, those bitches love to clean.
She shakes her head, and her glare returns to the papers on the desk.
Girl: No, they don't. They hated it, just like they hated washing your car, cooking your meals, polishing your title belts-- they did those things because they thought it would make you happy.
Orbit smiles and shrugs.
Steve Orbit: It did make me happy.
Girl: Well, you are not the one making the decisions around here anymore. You want things to become cleaner, safer, more professional-- then you leave it up to professionals. Besides, now the girls have more energy to dance, and flirt, and... and whatever else they do around here.
Steve Orbit: Yeah. I s'pose that's true.
Orbit takes a peice of hard candy out of the dish on his/her desk. He unwraps it and puts it in his mouth.
Steve Orbit: So you, uh... need anything? From me?
The girl looks up from the paperwork once again. This time, she removes her glasses and stares a hole into the core of Orbit's being.
Girl: No. I have everything under control. And I'm very busy. I'd appreciate it if you called me next time before stopping by.
Steve Orbit: Yo...
Orbit's natural instinct almost takes over. He stops himself from verbally berating and/or physically beating the girl that sits before him, taking a deep breath and cutting himself off.
Steve Orbit: This is still my business. You work for me, you know.
Girl: That is correct. So if you would allow me to work I will appreciate it.
A moment of silence, with their eyes locked. Both standing their ground.
Girl: Please. Mister Orbit.
Orbit grins at the show of respect. He stands, taking another peice of candy off the desk, and putting it in his mouth.
Steve Orbit: Keep up the good work.
Orbit turns to exit the office. As he turns around, the girl rolls her eyes. She puts her glasses back on and focuses on the paperwork once again. Orbit leaves the office and we fade out.
==
THE NEXT DAY
Fade in to what appears to be a chain-style gym in Raliegh, North Carolina. The logo is blurred, because Steve Orbit don't advertise for free, you know what I'm sayin'? We see a few clips of people lifting (bro), running on treadmills, and normal gym workout stuff.
Cut to the front entrance of the gym. We see none other than "The Antidote" Spencer Adams, sitting on a couch with his gym bag in his lap. He taps his foot, checks his watch. We watch him for a few moments, until... his tag team partner for the week, "The Mack" Steve Orbit, walks through the entrance. He's alone, wearing a zebra suit and his usual pimped out stuff. He is also carrying a gym back. He walks through the door and looks around, as if looking for somebody.
Orbit looks directly at Spencer-- and then quickly turns around to speak with the gym employee currently manning the front desk.
Steve Orbit: Excuse me. I'm supposed to meet somebody here, but I'm late and I was wondering if they left a message for me here. You probably recognize me--
The young man's eyes widen.
Gym Employee: Aren't you... uh, that rapper?! Holy craps!
Orbit leans over the desk, getting closer to the employee.
Steve Orbit: I'm Steve Orbit.
No response.
Steve Orbit: The Mack. One of the most important names in pro wrestling in the last decade.
The kid scoffs at the mention of pro wrestling.
Gym Employee: Sorry buddy, I don't watch that stuff.
Steve Orbit: Oh yeah? What do you watch... let me guess. Kardashians, Love and Hip Hop, all that fake bullshit--
At this moment, Spencer Adams approaches the desk.
Spencer Adams: Steve, I'm here. I'm right here, I've been waiting over there all along.
Orbit turns to face Adams.
Steve Orbit: Oh, shit! I didn't recognize you without all the make-up and shit.
Spencer Adams: Face paint.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, whatever. Say man, I'm starvin'. Let's go get a bite-- my limo driver told me about a bangin' deli right up the street.
Spencer Adams: But we haven't even worked out yet! I've been waiting for over an hour and this match is very important to me, I think we should--
Orbit puts his hand up and cuts off Spencer.
Steve Orbit: Relax, homeboy. You rollin' with Steve Orbit now. I had some issues getting here, but I'm here now. It's real nice meetin' you, you know what I'm sayni', and we gon' work out all the gym stuff later, but right now I'm hungry as a mother fucker. I need a sammich or some chicken or somethin'.
Spencer sighs.
Spencer Adams: Fine. But then we are coming right back to this gym and putting in work.
Steve Orbit: You got it, man. Yeah.
Orbit and Spencer exit the gym, heading towards Orbit's limosuine parked outside.
==
A short time later, Orbit and Spencer are sitting in the corner booth of a deli. There are several boxes of food stacked on the table between them. A waitress is currently at their table, and we catch them in the middle of a conversation.
Steve Orbit: ... Aight, fine. Just bring me a water or somethin'.
Spencer Adams: Two waters.
The waitress smiles and leaves. Orbit turns to Spencer.
Steve Orbit: What's your problem man? You don't drink?
Spencer Adams: Not when I'm about to work out, and especially not when I'm about to try to coordinate a match with somebody who I've never worked with before!
Spencer is clearly annoyed with Orbit at this point. Orbit senses the bad vibes and decides to start a conversation.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, you right. I wasn't thinkin'. Anyway, I just wanna say it again-- I'm real happy to be workin' with you, homie. You're one of the guys who I've really, you know, paid attention to while I was out of the business last year. So I'm glad to have the opportunity to work with you this quickly upon returning.
Spencer Adams: The feeling is mutual. You're a legend, I'm definitely excited to work with you this week. Of course, there is also the matter of Fifteen at the end of the month.
Moment of silence. Staring contest.
Steve Orbit: Yeah... World title shot on the line in that one.
Dead serious between both of them... until Orbit is the one to finally grin and break the stare.
Steve Orbit: We can't even afford to be thinkin' that far ahead right now, bruh. If anything and you wanna bring that up, let's use this week to blow this thing out of the water and show everybody that Steve Orbit and Spencer Adams are the front runners in that Final Destination match. Show 'em how the other two mother fuckers are just takin' up space in our match.
Adams chuckles at the comment.
Spencer Adams: Yeah, a win this week would definitely help our case. How much do you know about Howard Black and Occulo?
Steve Orbit: I know they about to get Pimp Slapped the fuck up this week.
Spencer doesn't find that as amusing.
Spencer Adams: I'm being serious.
Steve Orbit: So am I.
Spencer Adams: Alright, well-- besides the Pimp Slaps, what do you know about them? We are going into this match with a clear disadvantage.
Orbit raises an eyebrow.
Steve Orbit: Oh yeah, how's that?
Spencer Adams: Howard and Occulo are a bonafide tag team! They know each other well, they know each other's styles. They're personal friends, former stablemates. Maybe current, I don't know what the heck is going on with the Sentinels but it's not important. What's important is, Howard Black and Occulo have been a force to be reckoned with every time they've tagged up. Just two weeks ago they won the Trios titles with Joey Flash.
Orbit finishes the last bite of his sandwich before answering.
Steve Orbit: Trios belts. Hmph. Worthless. How many Tag titles they got?
Spencer Adams: Well... none. Howard has one, actually, but not with Occulo. With Jay Omega.
Steve Orbit: Howard Black and Jay Omega? That's an odd pairing...
The camera freezes for a moment on Steve Orbit and Spencer Adams, as "odd pairing" echoes a few times.
Steve Orbit: Were they an official team? I missed a lot last year.
Spencer Adams: No, no. Ultimate Showdown. They won them at Ultimate Showdown.
Steve Orbit: Wait... you mean... Ha... HA... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
Orbit has fallen out of the booth onto the floor and is currently rolling on the floor laughing out loud. Spencer laughs to himself at Orbit's reaction, but stays composed.
Steve Orbit: Oh God. Oh God.
Orbit pulls himself back up into the seat.
Steve Orbit: Oh that's a good one, man. First you tell me that Howard Black and Occulo is some kinda great tag team. Then you tell me they ain't never had no Tag titles... and now you tellin' me that Howard Black had one at ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN. That's the consolation prize, my nigga. Thanks for comin'. That's literally last fuckin' place in Ultimate Showdown. So please, continue... how are they a great tag team again?
Spencer Adams: Titles aren't everything.
Steve Orbit: Uh-- speaking as somebody who has held damn near every title, twice, including the Tag belts-- I can tell you that yes, titles are everything in this business. Literally, fuckin' everything. Titles bring prestige, money, opportunity... legacies are creating and defined by title reigns in this business. Anybody can pull off a win, even a string of wins-- and apparently, anybody can win the tag belts by LOSING Ultimate Showdown. I guess that's besides the point, right?
Spencer Adams: It is. The point is that Howard Black and Occulo have won a lot more than they've lost. They are a strong as hell team, two rather badass guys who form a united front when together. They've beaten--
Steve Orbit: Let me stop you right there. I know you think highly of these guys, aight? That's cool. It's good to have respect for your fellow competitors and all that shit. I respect 'em too, but you talkin' like you thinkin' we can't run through these fools. I've done a little... minimal research, aight, and I know you've had trouble beating Howard in the past. You can't let that shit fuck with you though, especially not this week. You got STEVE ORBIT in your corner.
Orbit slams his hand on the table and puts his finger in Spencer's face.
Steve Orbit: Two time World champion. And even more importantly to you, two time TAG TEAM champion. When I first came to WCF, I couldn't work a tag match to save my career, aight? I sucked at tag matches. All it took was some practice-- and you'll get plenty of practice working tag matches with Seth at the helm-- and a few years later, I can say without a doubt that I am one of the baddest mother fuckin' tag team partners to have in this business. I don't give a fuck if I've worked with you before or not. You ain't gotta worry about having chemistry with me, none of that shit. Just follow my lead, homie, and we will NOT lose to Howard Black and Occulo. Stick with me and you can't lose, bruh.
Adams nods along, silently.
Steve Orbit: Look, I know-- you wanna be your own man, but who's the vet here? Who's got the Tag titles? There comes a point in a man's life when he's gotta decide if his pride is gonna--
Spencer cuts off Orbit.
Spencer Adams: Alright, I don't need the pep talk. I'm a former Tag champ as well, you know. But thanks anyway.
Steve Orbit: You sure? I mean, you the one soundin' like you scared of these mother fuckers.
Spencer Adams: I'm not scared! Of anyone, including YOU.
Moment of silence. Orbit grins, and offers his hand to Spencer.
Steve Orbit: That's what the fuck I like to hear. We gon' be aight this week, Spence.
Spencer shakes his hand.
Spencer Adams: Yeah, I think so too. You ready to get to work now?
Steve Orbit: Sure, yeah. I just got one more stop, this Strip Club I been wantin' to hit...
Spencer is about to be pissed, but-- Orbit laughs.
Steve Orbit: I'm just playin' man. Let's get back to the gym.
Orbit and Adams drop money on the table for the bill, and leave, heading back to the limosuine.
==
THAT NIGHT
Fade in to a hotel room. It's a regular room-- not the ultra-luxurious type of presidential suite that he used to rent once upon a time, and still may on occasion, but it's a regular king non-smoking room. He's OK with that. Even for a world-famous pro wrestler, pimp extroardinaire... sometimes it's nice to just blend in and do normal shit.
Orbit sat on the side of his bed, wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe, cell-phone in hand. He puts the phone to his ear.
Steve Orbit: ... Hey, it's Steve. ... Steve ORBIT. The owner of the fuckin' Club. Put Kamelia on the phone. ... Yeah, I been callin' her cell. Can't get her. The fuck is goin' on out there? ... Damn, it's that busy, huh? ... Aight, I'll try back. I'll try back later. Thanks.
Orbit ends the call. He breathes a deep sigh, before putting the phone to his ear once again.
Steve Orbit: ... ... Kami, Steve. Just you know, checkin' in. I got a show out here in North Carolina, but I'll be back in Oakland on Monday so... you know, if you need anything, call me. Otherwise I'll just stop by the Club when I get back. Aight? Call me if you need me.
He ends the call and he's about to put the phone onto the nightstand... instead he chooses to take a Black & Mild cigar from the drawer along with a lighter. He goes outside onto the balcony and lights the cigar. He takes a puff, and then sets his phone up to record, placing it on the chair next to him. He turns his chair to face the other one, and begins to cut a phone-camera promo.
Steve Orbit: What's up to all the WCF fans out there, this is Steve Orbit LIVE from the hotel room out here in Raliegh. I met with my tag partner for the week, mother fuckin' Spencer Adams today and we had a great workout, we worked on some real forward thinkin' futuristic type of tag team shit, you know what I'm sayin'? We put in that real work, I feel like we got each other's back this week. And I'm happy about that. Sometimes tag teams don't even make it one week before exploding, or imploding or whatever the case may be. But me and Spencer, even with this Final Destination shit hangin' over our heads, we 'gon be aight. We got that mutual understanding, baby.
Orbit pauses to take a puff of the Black & Mild.
Steve Orbit: A lot of people be askin' me, tweetin' me, whatever. They wanna know why am I back? Why now? I'ma tell you like this, there ain't no big, grand master plan. I ain't been sittin' back plottin' the perfect time to come back into this mother fucker. The truth is, it just... kinda happened. And the reason, the main reason I came back is for the mother fuckin' competition. You know what I'm sayin'. That's what I been missin' the most. I ain't gonna sit here and go into all kinda details about my personal business, at least not at this point in time, but I will say this-- I been workin' on steppin' away from the pimp game. I been doin' it for so long, I'm tired. Not tired of the money-- don't get me wrong, but I'm just tired of the life, tired of having five, six, ten girlfriends and they all need somethin' from me. And people wonder how I always got a brand new style of back hand for these mother fuckers, you try being there for multiple women, supporting them emotionally, physically and financially. Listening to all their problems and bullshit, comforting them, and everything else that comes along with a relationship. Y'all square mother fuckers can't handle one, let alone a God damn stable. You gotta be built for this shit, and I am. Damn right I am, through and through. But that don't mean I can't get tired just like everybody else.
Orbit again drags from the cigar.
Steve Orbit: So I handed over the reigns to couple of good folks I met through some mutual friends. Some Russian folks on some real business shit, some shit I can relate to. Kamelia is there day-to-day runnin' the joint with a couple of other mother fuckers working behind the scenes. They familiar with the strip club business, they know how to break these bitches, but they still need my guidance. They still need a nigga like me around there, a real pimp, you can believe that.
Orbit swallows hard, perhaps not totally convinced of the previous statement. He pulls off the cigar one last time before tapping it out in the ashtray.
Steve Orbit: But look, that's here nor there, I don't mean to bore y'all with my business life. I'm back in WCF, back performing in the ring. Back in the saddle. I told y'all I'm here for the competition and God damn if Seth didn't deliver that this week in the form of Howard mother fuckin' Black, and Occulo. I mean, between these two guys, plus you throw Spencer in the mix, I'ma have the honor of workin' with three of the hottest guys in the business right now. And I love that, I appreciate that, because I got somethin' to prove for the first time in a LONG time. I ain't a fuckin' fool. I know there's doubters out there, it's the same story anybody comes back to this mother fucker. They wanna know if I can "hang" with the current locker room.
Orbit chuckles.
Steve Orbit: I done hanged through three years of an ever changing and evolving locker room, you know what I'm sayin', and I think most of y'all would agree that I did just fine-- excelled, even. Made WCF my bitch, even. But still... here we are, a year later, and mother fuckers gon' be askin' if Steve Orbit can hang. So here we go-- my opportunity to show and prove. I'ma give all three of these mother fuckers a free lesson on how to be a mother fuckin' legend in the wrestling ring.
He nods, believing in his own words. He thinks for a moment before speaking again.
Steve Orbit: Howard Black. I vaguely remember this mother fucker from last year. His name was ringin' bells for a few months-- as far as I could tell, he was set up to be the next big thing... but then he got his arm broke. Snapped, actually, by my nigga Joey Flash Mali-nali or however the fuck it is. Injuries happen I guess... I mean, it ain't never happened to me, but you let this mother fucker snap your shit in half and you ain't did shit about it?
Orbit shakes his head.
Steve Orbit: Not only that-- you come back at One to save this nigga? To be on his Trios team? Congrats on those belts, by the way. Can't say they worth a squirt of piss, but congrats on that BIG win. Back to Flash though, somethin' is fishy here. I mean, maybe I missed something, but didn't you just sit on the sideline for half a year because of this mother fucker, and now you're friends? You either the dumbest mother fucker in WCF or it's all a plot to turn on Flash... and maybe Occulo too. I wonder how Occulo feels about all that? You think he trusts you? You think he's maybe wondering the same shit I am?
Orbit rubs his chin.
Steve Orbit: Aw, maybe I should cut it out with the conspiracy theories. I'm just tryin' to stir some shit up, right? Right. Thing is, me and Spencer... we know we about to throw down at the end of the month. There ain't no questions about allegience. Spencer Adams don't owe me shit after this match, and I don't owe him, and with that understanding we can stay on the same page for this week. Spencer is a smart guy, and a magnificent wrestler. I'm impressed with him and I think I pulled some shit out of him in the gym today that y'all ain't never seen before. Y'all might see a brand new Spencer Adams in that ring with Steve Orbit.
Orbit grins.
Steve Orbit: Back to Howard Black, though. This is one of those guys where his hype is off the mother fuckin' chart but his resume, his accomplishments just don't add up. The numbers don't add up. He had, what-- a TV title run, that's the ante to get into the mother fuckin' game around here, everybody knows that. Congrats, I had two TV title runs back to back and I beat two legends, two World Champions to get 'em. Howard, you had your shot at Ultimate Showdown. You shit the bed, homie. The pressure got to you and your card was pulled, you know what I'm sayin'? You were exposed, and you failed. Miserably. Matter of fact, where HAVE you succeeded around here, bruh? Cuz I can't see it. You mighta won some matches that nobody gave a fuck about, sure. And you got talent, I ain't denying that you got talent. You a family man-- a square, I can respect that to a point. I think you got a good heart. Man to man, I ain't got no problem with you, homie. But that don't mean I won't Pimp Slap your fuckin' face backwards in the middle of the ring.
Orbit nods and pauses, letting that sink it.
Steve Orbit: And Occulo, I mean, come on. Another one? Another spooky guy? Bruh-- eat some red meat, go outside in the mother fuckin' sun, get some vitamin D... you look fuckin' crazy, my nigga. No wonder you seein' shit and havin' visions and all this type of shit, you need a decent meal my dude. Ain't that his thing, visions and all that?
Orbit asks the camera as if expecting an answer.
Steve Orbit: I don't know. One thing I don't understand is why all these crazy mother fuckers decide they wanna be wrestlers. What they need is a mother fuckin' psychiatrist. And you too, Occulo. I mean, supposedly this guy just killed a man... shot his ass, BANG. I don't know if the voices told him to do it, or what. I can't figure out these type of mother fuckers and maybe I don't want to. I don't believe in any of that voodoo devil shit, you know what I'm sayin'? Keep it out of my ring. Occulo, you in the same boat as Howard. You came in with a buzz and then you dropped the mother fuckin' ball every time it came your way. Oh, I understand you was United States champion... for what, a week? A month?
Orbit mock claps.
Steve Orbit: Didn't quite break any records with that one, did you? The record that's held by ME for longest US title reign in WCF history. It's a common theme with both of y'all. Anything y'all done, I did it better, I did it harder, I did it longer... and that's just when I was warmin' up. Shit, I accomplished more in my first three months than y'all did in a year's time. And you can talk about eras, talk about whatever you want but at the end of the day I was able to do what I did because if I am not the baddest mother fucker to ever step into a WCF ring, then I'm damn sure one of the baddest. Occulo, Howard, it's not personal. I don't give a fuck about either one of y'all enough for it to be personal, but beyond that, y'all seem like some decent mother fuckers. So let's just be mother fuckin' gentlemen about this, y'all take your licks and keep on movin'. Y'all about to step into the ring with somebody who is operating on a higher level in every mother fuckin' way. And I'm pullin' it out of Spencer, too. He won't be able to help but go full speed when he's out there with a mother fucker like me.
Orbit chuckles to himself.
Steve Orbit: This is 'bout to be the second week in a row that y'all two get buried in the middle of the ring.
Orbit laughs some more at his own joke. He reaches for the phone and ends the recording. He gets up and heads back inside the hotel room as we fade out.
