The Pride - Nothing to be Proud Of
Apr 17, 2016 13:41:22 GMT -5
Logan, The Polar Phantasm, and 2 more like this
Post by Steve Orbit on Apr 17, 2016 13:41:22 GMT -5
WELLS FARGO ARENA
4/11/16
Moments after Slam goes off the air, the winner of the main event and new number one contender to the World Title... Grayson Pierce, walks through the curtain to the backstage area. He winces with each step, clearly feeling the effects of the hard fought victory. He turns a corner down the hall... Steve Orbit steps into his path. Still in his ring gear, sweaty, with a stone cold expression on his face. Grayson is startled, but stands his ground, locking eyes with Orbit.
Orbit puts his hands on his hips, and shakes his head. After a few uncomfortable moments... Orbit extends his hand. Grayson looks down at it, and without much hesitation, he shakes Orbit's hand, still unsure of what to make of this interaction.
Orbit turns around to walk away... but stops short. He turns back around, facing Pierce once again.
Steve Orbit: Don't fuck this up.
Grayson is about to speak, Orbit cuts him off.
Steve Orbit: Homie, you tore it up out there tonight. You earned this victory. And to be honest... it's an opportunity you deserve-- more than me, and God damn sure more than Wade Moor. You right on the cusp of greatness, man. You gotta seize this fuckin' moment.
Grayson Pierce: ... Thanks. I will.
Steve Orbit: You know... not everybody comes in this company and wins every match, wins the World title in a few months-- it's only a few exceptional mother fuckers who are able to do that, and it's a combination of timing, luck, and a lotta stuff that can't nobody control. But people like you... people like US, we prove ourselves over and over again. We take the slow burn, you know what I'm sayin'? It ain't nothin' wrong with that. It took me over a year in this company to win the World title, and I had plenty of losses, and setbacks, and heartbreaks along the way.
Grayson Pierce: ... Yeah.
Steve Orbit: What I'm tryin' to say is, you just beat two former World Champions for that number one contender spot. Joey Flash, he's the fuckin' man right now, and he's hard as hell to beat-- but I know that if you throw everything you got at him, and you show him that same shit you showed me and Wade tonight... you'll get that World title. You're right there, bruh. This is your time. Don't fuckin' let it pass you by.
Grayson nods, letting Orbit's words sink in.
Grayson Pierce: I appreciate that, man. Means a lot coming from you.
Orbit nods, and the two men shake hands one more time.
Steve Orbit: See you around.
Orbit turns to leave.
Grayson Pierce: Wait--
Orbit turns around to face Grayson.
Grayson Pierce: You're not mad about losing?
Orbit cracks a smile.
Steve Orbit: Man, I'm Steve Orbit. There'll be plenty more opportunities for me, I ain't goin' nowhere.
Orbit slaps Grayson's shoulder and walks away. Grayson grins, clearly appreciating the show of respect from Orbit. The camera follows Orbit to the locker room... he enters, and opens his locker. He pulls out his phone and we notice it is blinking. He swipes his finger along the screen, and reads a notification... and chuckles.
Steve Orbit: Damn.
Orbit grins, and slams his hand against the locker.
Steve Orbit: HELL yeah!
Orbit begins to unlace his boots and we fade out.
==
When I told Grayson that another opportunity would be waiting for me, I wasn't sure. How many times do I gotta blow it before I really do fall off? Have I really lost my touch? More importantly... do I even care anymore? Does this business mean to me what it used to mean? There was a time when... if a World title shot was up for grabs, I would have won. I would have done WHATEVER it took to win that match... and this time, I didn't. Sure, I WANTED to win... but it wasn't the same hunger that I used to have. And if I don't have that hunger... what am I doing here?
Those type of thoughts were going through my head, and then I recieved a text from an old friend who wanted to meet up. Maybe he could help me sort through some of this. I'd smoke a fat joint on the way home, surely that would clear my mind in the meantime. Shit is like a natural psychiatrist when used at the right time, in the right moment.
When I got back to my hotel, I got word of my match for next week. United States title contendership match against Ethan King. I'd seen Ethan King in action, and I thought The Pride had potential-- when they walked in, but what happened? They just like so many other groups who come in, have all the promise in the world, loads of talent, and then they just kinda... do nothing. One of 'em disappeared, right? Just two left? Ethan and Eddie? Forgive me if I don't know the fuckin' details, I got enough shit on my own plate, and bottom of the card mother fuckers ain't exactly on my radar.
Until now, that is. I dunno what that says about either of us-- is it a sign that I'm falling down the card, or is it that Ethan is moving up? Is it a little of both? I mean... this is the biggest match of Ethan King's career, easily. If he wins, he beats a former World champion, a bonafide main eventer, and he gets a shot at the United States title. If he loses... well, it was Steve Orbit, ain't nobody gonna knock him for that, right? That's the fuckin' advantage that all these new cats have over me. If they win, it's huge. If they lose, it's "whatever, no shame in losing to Orbit". So which is it? Do I matter, or not?
It was up to me to answer that.
==
THE NEXT DAY
Orbit's old school Cadillac crawls down the street in Fleetwood, PA. He's riding solo-- all the hoes are back in Oakland. "Word Up" by Cameo pumps through the car speakers as Orbit bobs his head. His phone GPS is directing him, barely audible over the music. He bangs a left, screetching around the corner... and comes to a stop in front of a building signed "Jade Empress Aikido". Orbit looks at his phone, and back and the building, and then back at his phone.
Steve Orbit: What the fuck kinda place...
At this moment, a ravishing Asian women steps outside wearing a gi. Two adolescent boys follow her, bowing to her before walking away down the street. She catches Orbit staring at her, and their eyes meet. She quickly looks away and turns to walk back into the studio.
Orbit parks on the curb, slamming the door as he exits the vehicle. He walks briskly towards the front door, just in time to hold it open for the mysterious Asian woman.
Steve Orbit: After you, sugar.
She rolls her eyes and walks inside. Orbit looks around outside, grins, and follows her in.
Asian Woman: Can I help you with something?
Steve Orbit: Actually, an old friend sent me here. Said I was supposed to meet him, but I see what he's up to... and I gotta make sure I thank him when I see him. I didn't know they had... you know, places like THIS out here in a place like Fleetwood, Pennsylvania.
The woman crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow.
Asian Woman: You mean... martial arts studios?
Orbit laughs.
Steve Orbit: Do I look like a cop? Come on, girl. This is my line of work-- I know a front when I see one. Women like... you... don't teach martial arts, just like y'all don't give massages or do "bodywork", or read fortunes, or whatever else they comin' up with these days. Look, I ran a massage parlor-- two of 'em, actually. I'm cool, I know the deal. So let me just be straight up-- Polar Phantasm sent me here, I'm guessin' that droppin' his name should be enough to get me the full menu, right?
The woman is confused. Offended, maybe, but she definitely has no idea what the fuck he's talking about.
Asian Woman: Ah... Polar Phantasm. Are you a wrestler? Polar is good friends with my boyfriend.
She puts emphasis on the word "boyfriend".
Steve Orbit: Right, yeah. You know, Polar, he's a friendly guy. He's what some of us call a "cool square"-- he can hang, nah mean? But look, I had a rough night last night, and I'd really like to relieve some of this tension if you know what I'm sayin', so enough with the small talk.
Orbit takes his coat off and begins to unbutton his shirt.
Steve Orbit: I mean, this is the weirdest front I ever seen for a place like this. Let me guess-- the state, maybe the local authorities, they passed a law regulating "bodywork" and massage joints, right, so y'all have to adapt and get creative. I respect the hustle. Same shit is going on in a lot of places around the country. But people like us, we stay a step ahead of the law, right? Gotta keep that supply goin', because you know for damn sure the demand ain't goin' no-fuckin'-where.
Orbit tosses his shirt aside and begins to unbutton his pants.
Asian Woman: ... What are you doing? Are you crazy?
Instinctively, she goes into an offensive position. Orbit puts his hands up-- she takes it as a threat, and attacks him with a judo throw. Orbit lands hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He rolls back to his feet, holding his hands out to fend her off.
Steve Orbit: What the hell you doin'? I'm a smooth type of lover, I don't like the rough shit--
She kicks at him, he blocks it. She kicks again, blocked. She backs Orbit into the corner, and looks like she's about to take his head off...
Voice: What the fuck is goin' on in here?
The camera widens to show the Funkiest Brother Alive, Cornelius Casanova standing in the entrance. Noticing his woman is on the attack, he drops his bag on the ground and rushes to her side.
Cornelius Casanova: You aight?!
Asian Woman: I want this asshole out of here!
Orbit is crouched in the corner, covering his face. He moves his hands... and makes eye contact with Casanova.
Cornelius Casanova: ... Orbit?!
Steve Orbit: Cornelius, oh shit!
Asian Woman: You know this creep?
Orbit and Cornelius shake hands and embrace for a hug, as the woman shakes her head in disbelief.
Cornelius Casanova: Yeah! We worked a match down in GEW once upon a time. This is the homie!
Orbit quickly throws his shirt back on and begins buttoning it back up.
Steve Orbit: Look, uh-- we had a little misunderstanding, that's all.
Cornelius Casanova: I can see that-- I take it y'all already met?
Steve Orbit: Uh... we ain't been formally introduced, nah.
Cornelius Casanova: This is Angela. Sensei Angela Chen. This is her Aikido studio if you ain't figured that out by now-- looks like you was 'bout to learn real quick, though.
Never one to be embarassed, Orbit extends his hand to Angela.
Steve Orbit: Hey, nice to meet you. Sorry for the mix-up. I'm a fuckin' fool sometimes.
Angela reluctantly shakes his hand.
Angela Chen: Thirty more seconds and Cornelius would have been carrying you out of here.
Steve Orbit: Yeah--
Orbit turns to Cornelius.
Steve Orbit: She got moves, homie. Damn.
Cornelius Casanova: Yeah, she the best. Women like her are one in a million, dawg. Why'd you have your shirt off?
Steve Orbit: Uh...
Angela Chen: I was giving him a quick lesson while we were waiting for you.
Not wanting to cause a rift between old friends, she excuses Orbit's behavior with the cover up. Orbit looks at her and smiles, as if to thank her.
Steve Orbit: Tellin' you, bruh-- you better treat her right, if you know what's good for your heath.
Cornelius Casanova: Think I don't know?
The two men laugh. Angela rolls her eyes.
Cornelius Casanova: Polar told me you'd be comin' around, but I didn't expect you to show so soon. I was just stoppin' in to check in with my lady, and then heading home to change. You wanna roll? Polar's at the crib, you can hook up with him there.
Steve Orbit: Word up-- I got a couple ounces of the most firey fire in Cali in my trunk. Shit's called Strawberry Thunderfuck or some shit like that.
Cornelius Casanova: I thought you wasn't much of a smoker?
Steve Orbit: Things change, my dude. Got papers?
Cornelius Casanova: Hell yeah.
Steve Orbit: Let's roll.
Orbit turns to walk out the front door. Cornelius stops to talk to Angela, agreeing to meet at home later. They kiss on the lips, and Cornelius exits with Orbit. Fade out.
==
Fade in to the "Charles residence"-- Cornelius Casanova's home, former home of his father, the late "Ready" Freddy Charles. Two cars pull up-- a green Oldsmobile, and a baby blue Cadillac. The engines kill in the driveway. Cornelius exits the Oldsmobile and walks towards Orbit's ride as he exits himself.
Cornelius Casanova: Fuckin' sweet, bro.
Cornelius eyes Orbit's car, peeking through the windows and checking out the custom luxury leather interior.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, I had her for a few years now. She's my main bitch-- I had a jet, I had a bus, limos, expert drivers-- nothin' beats me and my bitch. I'm ridin' up to Canada for the next show, just me and this mother fucker and a bag of weed, you feel me.
Cornelius Casanova: I hear that.
The two men head towards the front door of the home.
Inside, Orbit sits at the kitchen table. A fat sack of weed rests on the table, next to a pack of papers-- there are several rolled joints, and Orbit is in the midst of rolling another. He's humming some R&B shit under his breath. Just then--
Voice: You smokin' all that by yourself?
Polar Phantasm steps into the frame. He's wearing a "Jeff Purse - The Future" WCF t-shirt, and his hair is a mess. Orbit immediately smiles at the sight of his old friend, he stands and they greet each other with a pound and a hug.
Steve Orbit: God damn good to see you, homie. Still can't believe you here.
Polar smiles.
Polar Phantasm: In the flesh, Mack.
Orbit looks Polar up and down.
Steve Orbit: Just gettin' outta bed?
Polar Phantasm: For you, I'm up before noon. How 'bout that.
The two friends have a seat at the kitchen table. Orbit offers Polar one of the fresh-rolled joints.
Steve Orbit: Cali indo' bro. Shit's dank as hell.
Polar laughs.
Polar Phantasm: You a weed head now? Shit, back in the day you wouldn't even take a hit.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, well... it's a long story for another time, Polar. Let's just say I rediscovered marijuana and we are enjoyin' a nice relationship.
Polar Phantasm: Fair enough.
Steve Orbit: Can we smoke in here?
Polar Phantasm: Spark it up.
Orbit takes out a lighter and puts fire to the ass of the joint, puffing it until it glows orange.
Steve Orbit: So what the fuck you been up to?
Orbit exhales smoke, and passes it to Polar.
Polar Phantasm: Layin' low... doing the family thing.
Orbit scoffs.
Polar Phantasm: Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it-- you never know, you might meet yourself a woman that you don't wanna let go of one day.
Orbit double scoffs.
Steve Orbit: You got the wrong one, homie. Not me. But I can't knock you for bein' a family man-- I always said if I had a seed, I'd fuckin' take care of him. Or her. Settlin' down though? Not for me, I'm a cold mother fuckin' pimp 'til the day I die, through and through, straight up and down like 6 o'clock.
Polar shrugs.
Polar Phantasm: Fair enough.
Polar passes the joint back to Orbit.
Polar Phantasm: What about you? I missed you on WCF television, glad to see you back doin' your thing.
Orbit takes a hit of the joint.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, it's been... a little rocky, but I'm cool.
Polar Phantasm: What, the thing with Logan?
Steve Orbit: There was that, yeah-- it just feels like somethin' is off. Like I can't quite get the traction I used to get.
Polar Phantasm: That's bullshit. You still goin' hard, I've seen it.
Steve Orbit: Just a few nights ago I fuckin' blew a shot at the World title. That's the second opportunity I've had since comin' back, and I dropped the mother fuckin' ball. Again.
Polar Phantasm: ... So?
Orbit raises an eyebrow.
Steve Orbit: So, I ain't hittin' it the same like I used to.
Polar Phantasm: Steve... this shit takes time. You can't just jump back in, a whole new landscape of competition that you don't know and they don't know you-- and expect to fit right in like you used to. There's a feeling out process, it's like you need to learn some things all over again. This is a fast-paced business, Mack. You were only gone for a year, people are acting like you were gone for ten. That's how fast people forget, and that's how quick things change. It's a whole new guard up there now. Tell you what though, once you hit, you 'gon be better than ever.
Orbit passes the joint back to Polar.
Steve Orbit: Think so? I mean, I DO got more experience than half these fools. Take my opponent this week, Ethan King. The boy ain't been in the company but a few months. I'm sure he lookin' at me like everybody else-- like I'm some washed up mother fucker comin' back to relive my glory days when I was a WCF superstar. FUCK that, Polar. I'm in my mother fuckin' prime. I left this company ON TOP-- damn, I mean, you lose a few matches and mother fuckers are talkin' about you can't fuckin' hang no more. It's fuckin' crazy.
Polar Phantasm: What else are they going to say? They know who you are, Steve. They know what the Mack is capable of. And you know this is a competitive business, people can't wait to see somebody fail. They can't wait to see somebody fall off. Everybody is out there competing for a spot, Mack. You're a threat to a lot of people who were a lot more comfortable when you were off the active roster-- of course they're gonna point to any loss, any shortcoming, and magnify it as a way to make their OWN self feel better.
Orbit nods.
Steve Orbit: Yeah. I mean, walk in my shoes. Accomplish the shit I've accomplished-- shit, accomplish SOMETHING before you talk to me about what the fuck I'M doin'. Nah mean?
Polar kills the joint in the ashtray on the table.
Polar Phantasm: You a shark out there, bro. A predator. Always have been. You ain't the one to fall by the wayside. Don't let the buzzin' in the locker room get to you. You an inch away from takin' whatever you want in this company-- I know it, everybody knows it.
Orbit nods and grins.
Steve Orbit: I got a US title contendership match this week.
Polar laughs.
Polar Phantasm: See what I'm sayin'? Do you want the United States title?
Steve Orbit: Shit, I wouldn't mind holdin' it again. I got the longest US title reign in WCF history, wouldn't mind breaking my own record. Wouldn't mind it at all.
Polar Phantasm: Then fuckin' put your mind to it, beat this... what's his name?
Steve Orbit: Ethan King.
Cornelius steps into the kitchen.
Cornelius Casanova: King of what?
Steve Orbit: Nah, that's his last name.
Cornelius Casanova: What, like Martin Luther? He got a dream too?
Orbit and Polar look at each other.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, he got a dream aight. Thinkin' he 'gon beat me at Slam, he trippin' in a real way.
Polar and Cornelius laugh. Cornelius pulls up a seat at the table.
Cornelius Casanova: Couldn't wait five minutes for me to burn one?
Steve Orbit: Shit, I got plenty to go around. Here--
Orbit hands Cornelius one of the pre-rolled joints.
Steve Orbit: Smoke one with your boy.
Cornelius shrugs and lights the joint. He takes a big pull and coughs.
Steve Orbit: Easy on that. Told you it was the shit.
Cornelius passes it to Polar.
Steve Orbit: What were we talking about?
Polar Phantasm: How you 'bout to get a United States title shot and beat this kid Ethan King.
Steve Orbit: Right. I mean, I like the kid, from what I seen of him. He works like a Lucha, a lot of flips and hoppin' around and shit. I might Pimp Slap him right outta the fuckin' sky, wouldn't be the first time. This shit got a heat seeker, POW.
Orbit throws a mock slap.
Cornelius Casanova: Good luck, my nigga.
Cornelius and Orbit pound fists. Phantasm hits the joint, with a distant look in his eye as if his mind has drifted. Orbit notices, and snaps his finger in Polar's face.
Steve Orbit: Earth to Phantasm. You to' up or what?
Polar Phantasm: I was just thinking... about Trios.
Orbit nods.
Steve Orbit: I made the finals last year, and if it wasn't for Corey Black's dumb ass--
Polar cuts him off.
Polar Phantasm: Hey. Corey's a friend. Used to be your friend, too.
Moment of awkward silence.
Steve Orbit: ... Well, whatever. Yeah, we did good last year. Really almost won the whole thing.
Polar Phantasm: Too bad Fly can't participate this year.
Orbit screws his face up, but keeps his thoughts to himself.
Steve Orbit: Yeah.
Another moment of stoned silence. Suddenly, it's as if a lightbulb goes off over Casanova's head.
Cornelius Casanova: Shit... why don't y'all team up this year?
Orbit looks at Polar. Polar looks at Orbit. They both look at Cornelius.
Cornelius Casanova: Nah, don't look at me. Y'all two can find somebody else, somebody more familiar with WCF. I'd just end up holdin' y'all back.
Steve Orbit: Bullshit, homie, I seen you work. Besides, we need more brothers in WCF.
Cornelius considers Orbit's statement for a brief moment.
Cornelius Casanova: Nah, no way. I'm here to manage Polar, help him out. No way.
Polar nods.
Polar Phantasm: That's ok. I think I know somebody who would be perfect... if you're down, Steve, I'll make the call. You down?
Orbit and Polar pound fists.
Steve Orbit: Shit, you know I got your back. Let's win this thang. But who you thinkin' for a third?
Polar grins.
Fade out.
==
Orbit's Cadillac speeds down the freeway. He's alone with his thoughts.
Damn, it was good to see Polar. I think he just might give me that inspiration I been searchin' for. I felt like a new man after chillin' with him and Cornelius. I mean, workin' with Polar was always a trip, and I feel real good about our chances at Trios, whoever the third man turns out to be. Knowing Polar, he's got a mother fuckin' ace up his sleeve. He always does.
Before all that, though, is Ethan King and the United States title number one contendership. I knew another opportunity would come, I just... didn't think it would be THIS quick. But that's what happens when you spend years to establish your name in this business. That shit doesn't go away, it doesn't stop. I'll always be Steve Orbit, I'll always be a draw.
That's why it burns me up to hear young cats talk about how I'm takin' somebody's spot, how I'm not workin' for mine-- bitch, I was here for three years, week in and week out, stackin' up wins against some of the greatest men and women who ever competed in WCF. Mother fuckers always think their flavor of the week is the best flavor of all time.
I got a special place in my heart for the WCF United States title. I used this belt to put my name on the map. It was my first real championship reign in WCF-- not counting the two brief Television title reigns I had before that, and I broke the record. I BROKE THE RECORD. WCF had been in business for 12, 13 years at that time, and I broke the record for holding the United States title longer than anybody. So yeah, people noticed. I was established. I had arrived, you know what I'm sayin'?
It's time to do it again. Sure, I'd rather be fightin' for the World title-- so would anybody. But I love WCF and I'd be proud to hold and defend any title with the WCF logo on it. Especially one that I, myself, have such a close and personal history with. I'd love to wrap that belt around my waist again, man. Mikey eXtreme, he's been a great champion. Defended against all comers, but he ain't been in the ring with me. I think that's a money match, for real.
Ethan, you're a decent talent. Your group is a joke, but you personally, you got some talent. You got a bright future... but I do mean future. You ain't ready yet. You ain't ready for the United States title and you damn sure ain't ready to step into the ring with Steve Orbit.
I hope you think I'm fallin' off. I hope you just like everybody else, you seen me lose a few matches, and you wonderin' what's the big deal about Steve Orbit. I beg you to underestimate me. I hope you do. I hope you thinkin' you gonna get a big win this week, and a fuckin' win to hang your hat on. "I beat Steve Orbit"... sounds great, don't it?
It's time to snap out that fuckin' dream. I'm comin' for your head this week, Ethan. One of us is going to make a statement this week. It's that type of an opportunity for both of us, and I'll be damned if I'm the guy you make your name off. Instead, this will be another setback for you. Another opportunity where you prove you're just another flash in the pan. You come in with some buzz and expect to roll over Steve Orbit? With a title shot on the line?
Pssh. It's not happening. I'm comin' to Slam, BEATING you, going to Aftermath, BEATING Mikey eX, and using the United States belt to RE establish myself, same way I used it to ESTABLISH myself back in 2012. And on the side, I'ma go into the Trios tournament with MOTHER FUCKING POLAR PHANTASM, and we 'gon take that mother fucker too. Because the time for fuckin' around is over. My eyes are wide fuckin' open.
See you at the arena.
Orbit's car continues down the highway, until we can barely see the tail lights... fade out.
4/11/16
Moments after Slam goes off the air, the winner of the main event and new number one contender to the World Title... Grayson Pierce, walks through the curtain to the backstage area. He winces with each step, clearly feeling the effects of the hard fought victory. He turns a corner down the hall... Steve Orbit steps into his path. Still in his ring gear, sweaty, with a stone cold expression on his face. Grayson is startled, but stands his ground, locking eyes with Orbit.
Orbit puts his hands on his hips, and shakes his head. After a few uncomfortable moments... Orbit extends his hand. Grayson looks down at it, and without much hesitation, he shakes Orbit's hand, still unsure of what to make of this interaction.
Orbit turns around to walk away... but stops short. He turns back around, facing Pierce once again.
Steve Orbit: Don't fuck this up.
Grayson is about to speak, Orbit cuts him off.
Steve Orbit: Homie, you tore it up out there tonight. You earned this victory. And to be honest... it's an opportunity you deserve-- more than me, and God damn sure more than Wade Moor. You right on the cusp of greatness, man. You gotta seize this fuckin' moment.
Grayson Pierce: ... Thanks. I will.
Steve Orbit: You know... not everybody comes in this company and wins every match, wins the World title in a few months-- it's only a few exceptional mother fuckers who are able to do that, and it's a combination of timing, luck, and a lotta stuff that can't nobody control. But people like you... people like US, we prove ourselves over and over again. We take the slow burn, you know what I'm sayin'? It ain't nothin' wrong with that. It took me over a year in this company to win the World title, and I had plenty of losses, and setbacks, and heartbreaks along the way.
Grayson Pierce: ... Yeah.
Steve Orbit: What I'm tryin' to say is, you just beat two former World Champions for that number one contender spot. Joey Flash, he's the fuckin' man right now, and he's hard as hell to beat-- but I know that if you throw everything you got at him, and you show him that same shit you showed me and Wade tonight... you'll get that World title. You're right there, bruh. This is your time. Don't fuckin' let it pass you by.
Grayson nods, letting Orbit's words sink in.
Grayson Pierce: I appreciate that, man. Means a lot coming from you.
Orbit nods, and the two men shake hands one more time.
Steve Orbit: See you around.
Orbit turns to leave.
Grayson Pierce: Wait--
Orbit turns around to face Grayson.
Grayson Pierce: You're not mad about losing?
Orbit cracks a smile.
Steve Orbit: Man, I'm Steve Orbit. There'll be plenty more opportunities for me, I ain't goin' nowhere.
Orbit slaps Grayson's shoulder and walks away. Grayson grins, clearly appreciating the show of respect from Orbit. The camera follows Orbit to the locker room... he enters, and opens his locker. He pulls out his phone and we notice it is blinking. He swipes his finger along the screen, and reads a notification... and chuckles.
Steve Orbit: Damn.
Orbit grins, and slams his hand against the locker.
Steve Orbit: HELL yeah!
Orbit begins to unlace his boots and we fade out.
==
When I told Grayson that another opportunity would be waiting for me, I wasn't sure. How many times do I gotta blow it before I really do fall off? Have I really lost my touch? More importantly... do I even care anymore? Does this business mean to me what it used to mean? There was a time when... if a World title shot was up for grabs, I would have won. I would have done WHATEVER it took to win that match... and this time, I didn't. Sure, I WANTED to win... but it wasn't the same hunger that I used to have. And if I don't have that hunger... what am I doing here?
Those type of thoughts were going through my head, and then I recieved a text from an old friend who wanted to meet up. Maybe he could help me sort through some of this. I'd smoke a fat joint on the way home, surely that would clear my mind in the meantime. Shit is like a natural psychiatrist when used at the right time, in the right moment.
When I got back to my hotel, I got word of my match for next week. United States title contendership match against Ethan King. I'd seen Ethan King in action, and I thought The Pride had potential-- when they walked in, but what happened? They just like so many other groups who come in, have all the promise in the world, loads of talent, and then they just kinda... do nothing. One of 'em disappeared, right? Just two left? Ethan and Eddie? Forgive me if I don't know the fuckin' details, I got enough shit on my own plate, and bottom of the card mother fuckers ain't exactly on my radar.
Until now, that is. I dunno what that says about either of us-- is it a sign that I'm falling down the card, or is it that Ethan is moving up? Is it a little of both? I mean... this is the biggest match of Ethan King's career, easily. If he wins, he beats a former World champion, a bonafide main eventer, and he gets a shot at the United States title. If he loses... well, it was Steve Orbit, ain't nobody gonna knock him for that, right? That's the fuckin' advantage that all these new cats have over me. If they win, it's huge. If they lose, it's "whatever, no shame in losing to Orbit". So which is it? Do I matter, or not?
It was up to me to answer that.
==
THE NEXT DAY
Orbit's old school Cadillac crawls down the street in Fleetwood, PA. He's riding solo-- all the hoes are back in Oakland. "Word Up" by Cameo pumps through the car speakers as Orbit bobs his head. His phone GPS is directing him, barely audible over the music. He bangs a left, screetching around the corner... and comes to a stop in front of a building signed "Jade Empress Aikido". Orbit looks at his phone, and back and the building, and then back at his phone.
Steve Orbit: What the fuck kinda place...
At this moment, a ravishing Asian women steps outside wearing a gi. Two adolescent boys follow her, bowing to her before walking away down the street. She catches Orbit staring at her, and their eyes meet. She quickly looks away and turns to walk back into the studio.
Orbit parks on the curb, slamming the door as he exits the vehicle. He walks briskly towards the front door, just in time to hold it open for the mysterious Asian woman.
Steve Orbit: After you, sugar.
She rolls her eyes and walks inside. Orbit looks around outside, grins, and follows her in.
Asian Woman: Can I help you with something?
Steve Orbit: Actually, an old friend sent me here. Said I was supposed to meet him, but I see what he's up to... and I gotta make sure I thank him when I see him. I didn't know they had... you know, places like THIS out here in a place like Fleetwood, Pennsylvania.
The woman crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow.
Asian Woman: You mean... martial arts studios?
Orbit laughs.
Steve Orbit: Do I look like a cop? Come on, girl. This is my line of work-- I know a front when I see one. Women like... you... don't teach martial arts, just like y'all don't give massages or do "bodywork", or read fortunes, or whatever else they comin' up with these days. Look, I ran a massage parlor-- two of 'em, actually. I'm cool, I know the deal. So let me just be straight up-- Polar Phantasm sent me here, I'm guessin' that droppin' his name should be enough to get me the full menu, right?
The woman is confused. Offended, maybe, but she definitely has no idea what the fuck he's talking about.
Asian Woman: Ah... Polar Phantasm. Are you a wrestler? Polar is good friends with my boyfriend.
She puts emphasis on the word "boyfriend".
Steve Orbit: Right, yeah. You know, Polar, he's a friendly guy. He's what some of us call a "cool square"-- he can hang, nah mean? But look, I had a rough night last night, and I'd really like to relieve some of this tension if you know what I'm sayin', so enough with the small talk.
Orbit takes his coat off and begins to unbutton his shirt.
Steve Orbit: I mean, this is the weirdest front I ever seen for a place like this. Let me guess-- the state, maybe the local authorities, they passed a law regulating "bodywork" and massage joints, right, so y'all have to adapt and get creative. I respect the hustle. Same shit is going on in a lot of places around the country. But people like us, we stay a step ahead of the law, right? Gotta keep that supply goin', because you know for damn sure the demand ain't goin' no-fuckin'-where.
Orbit tosses his shirt aside and begins to unbutton his pants.
Asian Woman: ... What are you doing? Are you crazy?
Instinctively, she goes into an offensive position. Orbit puts his hands up-- she takes it as a threat, and attacks him with a judo throw. Orbit lands hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He rolls back to his feet, holding his hands out to fend her off.
Steve Orbit: What the hell you doin'? I'm a smooth type of lover, I don't like the rough shit--
She kicks at him, he blocks it. She kicks again, blocked. She backs Orbit into the corner, and looks like she's about to take his head off...
Voice: What the fuck is goin' on in here?
The camera widens to show the Funkiest Brother Alive, Cornelius Casanova standing in the entrance. Noticing his woman is on the attack, he drops his bag on the ground and rushes to her side.
Cornelius Casanova: You aight?!
Asian Woman: I want this asshole out of here!
Orbit is crouched in the corner, covering his face. He moves his hands... and makes eye contact with Casanova.
Cornelius Casanova: ... Orbit?!
Steve Orbit: Cornelius, oh shit!
Asian Woman: You know this creep?
Orbit and Cornelius shake hands and embrace for a hug, as the woman shakes her head in disbelief.
Cornelius Casanova: Yeah! We worked a match down in GEW once upon a time. This is the homie!
Orbit quickly throws his shirt back on and begins buttoning it back up.
Steve Orbit: Look, uh-- we had a little misunderstanding, that's all.
Cornelius Casanova: I can see that-- I take it y'all already met?
Steve Orbit: Uh... we ain't been formally introduced, nah.
Cornelius Casanova: This is Angela. Sensei Angela Chen. This is her Aikido studio if you ain't figured that out by now-- looks like you was 'bout to learn real quick, though.
Never one to be embarassed, Orbit extends his hand to Angela.
Steve Orbit: Hey, nice to meet you. Sorry for the mix-up. I'm a fuckin' fool sometimes.
Angela reluctantly shakes his hand.
Angela Chen: Thirty more seconds and Cornelius would have been carrying you out of here.
Steve Orbit: Yeah--
Orbit turns to Cornelius.
Steve Orbit: She got moves, homie. Damn.
Cornelius Casanova: Yeah, she the best. Women like her are one in a million, dawg. Why'd you have your shirt off?
Steve Orbit: Uh...
Angela Chen: I was giving him a quick lesson while we were waiting for you.
Not wanting to cause a rift between old friends, she excuses Orbit's behavior with the cover up. Orbit looks at her and smiles, as if to thank her.
Steve Orbit: Tellin' you, bruh-- you better treat her right, if you know what's good for your heath.
Cornelius Casanova: Think I don't know?
The two men laugh. Angela rolls her eyes.
Cornelius Casanova: Polar told me you'd be comin' around, but I didn't expect you to show so soon. I was just stoppin' in to check in with my lady, and then heading home to change. You wanna roll? Polar's at the crib, you can hook up with him there.
Steve Orbit: Word up-- I got a couple ounces of the most firey fire in Cali in my trunk. Shit's called Strawberry Thunderfuck or some shit like that.
Cornelius Casanova: I thought you wasn't much of a smoker?
Steve Orbit: Things change, my dude. Got papers?
Cornelius Casanova: Hell yeah.
Steve Orbit: Let's roll.
Orbit turns to walk out the front door. Cornelius stops to talk to Angela, agreeing to meet at home later. They kiss on the lips, and Cornelius exits with Orbit. Fade out.
==
Fade in to the "Charles residence"-- Cornelius Casanova's home, former home of his father, the late "Ready" Freddy Charles. Two cars pull up-- a green Oldsmobile, and a baby blue Cadillac. The engines kill in the driveway. Cornelius exits the Oldsmobile and walks towards Orbit's ride as he exits himself.
Cornelius Casanova: Fuckin' sweet, bro.
Cornelius eyes Orbit's car, peeking through the windows and checking out the custom luxury leather interior.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, I had her for a few years now. She's my main bitch-- I had a jet, I had a bus, limos, expert drivers-- nothin' beats me and my bitch. I'm ridin' up to Canada for the next show, just me and this mother fucker and a bag of weed, you feel me.
Cornelius Casanova: I hear that.
The two men head towards the front door of the home.
Inside, Orbit sits at the kitchen table. A fat sack of weed rests on the table, next to a pack of papers-- there are several rolled joints, and Orbit is in the midst of rolling another. He's humming some R&B shit under his breath. Just then--
Voice: You smokin' all that by yourself?
Polar Phantasm steps into the frame. He's wearing a "Jeff Purse - The Future" WCF t-shirt, and his hair is a mess. Orbit immediately smiles at the sight of his old friend, he stands and they greet each other with a pound and a hug.
Steve Orbit: God damn good to see you, homie. Still can't believe you here.
Polar smiles.
Polar Phantasm: In the flesh, Mack.
Orbit looks Polar up and down.
Steve Orbit: Just gettin' outta bed?
Polar Phantasm: For you, I'm up before noon. How 'bout that.
The two friends have a seat at the kitchen table. Orbit offers Polar one of the fresh-rolled joints.
Steve Orbit: Cali indo' bro. Shit's dank as hell.
Polar laughs.
Polar Phantasm: You a weed head now? Shit, back in the day you wouldn't even take a hit.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, well... it's a long story for another time, Polar. Let's just say I rediscovered marijuana and we are enjoyin' a nice relationship.
Polar Phantasm: Fair enough.
Steve Orbit: Can we smoke in here?
Polar Phantasm: Spark it up.
Orbit takes out a lighter and puts fire to the ass of the joint, puffing it until it glows orange.
Steve Orbit: So what the fuck you been up to?
Orbit exhales smoke, and passes it to Polar.
Polar Phantasm: Layin' low... doing the family thing.
Orbit scoffs.
Polar Phantasm: Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it-- you never know, you might meet yourself a woman that you don't wanna let go of one day.
Orbit double scoffs.
Steve Orbit: You got the wrong one, homie. Not me. But I can't knock you for bein' a family man-- I always said if I had a seed, I'd fuckin' take care of him. Or her. Settlin' down though? Not for me, I'm a cold mother fuckin' pimp 'til the day I die, through and through, straight up and down like 6 o'clock.
Polar shrugs.
Polar Phantasm: Fair enough.
Polar passes the joint back to Orbit.
Polar Phantasm: What about you? I missed you on WCF television, glad to see you back doin' your thing.
Orbit takes a hit of the joint.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, it's been... a little rocky, but I'm cool.
Polar Phantasm: What, the thing with Logan?
Steve Orbit: There was that, yeah-- it just feels like somethin' is off. Like I can't quite get the traction I used to get.
Polar Phantasm: That's bullshit. You still goin' hard, I've seen it.
Steve Orbit: Just a few nights ago I fuckin' blew a shot at the World title. That's the second opportunity I've had since comin' back, and I dropped the mother fuckin' ball. Again.
Polar Phantasm: ... So?
Orbit raises an eyebrow.
Steve Orbit: So, I ain't hittin' it the same like I used to.
Polar Phantasm: Steve... this shit takes time. You can't just jump back in, a whole new landscape of competition that you don't know and they don't know you-- and expect to fit right in like you used to. There's a feeling out process, it's like you need to learn some things all over again. This is a fast-paced business, Mack. You were only gone for a year, people are acting like you were gone for ten. That's how fast people forget, and that's how quick things change. It's a whole new guard up there now. Tell you what though, once you hit, you 'gon be better than ever.
Orbit passes the joint back to Polar.
Steve Orbit: Think so? I mean, I DO got more experience than half these fools. Take my opponent this week, Ethan King. The boy ain't been in the company but a few months. I'm sure he lookin' at me like everybody else-- like I'm some washed up mother fucker comin' back to relive my glory days when I was a WCF superstar. FUCK that, Polar. I'm in my mother fuckin' prime. I left this company ON TOP-- damn, I mean, you lose a few matches and mother fuckers are talkin' about you can't fuckin' hang no more. It's fuckin' crazy.
Polar Phantasm: What else are they going to say? They know who you are, Steve. They know what the Mack is capable of. And you know this is a competitive business, people can't wait to see somebody fail. They can't wait to see somebody fall off. Everybody is out there competing for a spot, Mack. You're a threat to a lot of people who were a lot more comfortable when you were off the active roster-- of course they're gonna point to any loss, any shortcoming, and magnify it as a way to make their OWN self feel better.
Orbit nods.
Steve Orbit: Yeah. I mean, walk in my shoes. Accomplish the shit I've accomplished-- shit, accomplish SOMETHING before you talk to me about what the fuck I'M doin'. Nah mean?
Polar kills the joint in the ashtray on the table.
Polar Phantasm: You a shark out there, bro. A predator. Always have been. You ain't the one to fall by the wayside. Don't let the buzzin' in the locker room get to you. You an inch away from takin' whatever you want in this company-- I know it, everybody knows it.
Orbit nods and grins.
Steve Orbit: I got a US title contendership match this week.
Polar laughs.
Polar Phantasm: See what I'm sayin'? Do you want the United States title?
Steve Orbit: Shit, I wouldn't mind holdin' it again. I got the longest US title reign in WCF history, wouldn't mind breaking my own record. Wouldn't mind it at all.
Polar Phantasm: Then fuckin' put your mind to it, beat this... what's his name?
Steve Orbit: Ethan King.
Cornelius steps into the kitchen.
Cornelius Casanova: King of what?
Steve Orbit: Nah, that's his last name.
Cornelius Casanova: What, like Martin Luther? He got a dream too?
Orbit and Polar look at each other.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, he got a dream aight. Thinkin' he 'gon beat me at Slam, he trippin' in a real way.
Polar and Cornelius laugh. Cornelius pulls up a seat at the table.
Cornelius Casanova: Couldn't wait five minutes for me to burn one?
Steve Orbit: Shit, I got plenty to go around. Here--
Orbit hands Cornelius one of the pre-rolled joints.
Steve Orbit: Smoke one with your boy.
Cornelius shrugs and lights the joint. He takes a big pull and coughs.
Steve Orbit: Easy on that. Told you it was the shit.
Cornelius passes it to Polar.
Steve Orbit: What were we talking about?
Polar Phantasm: How you 'bout to get a United States title shot and beat this kid Ethan King.
Steve Orbit: Right. I mean, I like the kid, from what I seen of him. He works like a Lucha, a lot of flips and hoppin' around and shit. I might Pimp Slap him right outta the fuckin' sky, wouldn't be the first time. This shit got a heat seeker, POW.
Orbit throws a mock slap.
Cornelius Casanova: Good luck, my nigga.
Cornelius and Orbit pound fists. Phantasm hits the joint, with a distant look in his eye as if his mind has drifted. Orbit notices, and snaps his finger in Polar's face.
Steve Orbit: Earth to Phantasm. You to' up or what?
Polar Phantasm: I was just thinking... about Trios.
Orbit nods.
Steve Orbit: I made the finals last year, and if it wasn't for Corey Black's dumb ass--
Polar cuts him off.
Polar Phantasm: Hey. Corey's a friend. Used to be your friend, too.
Moment of awkward silence.
Steve Orbit: ... Well, whatever. Yeah, we did good last year. Really almost won the whole thing.
Polar Phantasm: Too bad Fly can't participate this year.
Orbit screws his face up, but keeps his thoughts to himself.
Steve Orbit: Yeah.
Another moment of stoned silence. Suddenly, it's as if a lightbulb goes off over Casanova's head.
Cornelius Casanova: Shit... why don't y'all team up this year?
Orbit looks at Polar. Polar looks at Orbit. They both look at Cornelius.
Cornelius Casanova: Nah, don't look at me. Y'all two can find somebody else, somebody more familiar with WCF. I'd just end up holdin' y'all back.
Steve Orbit: Bullshit, homie, I seen you work. Besides, we need more brothers in WCF.
Cornelius considers Orbit's statement for a brief moment.
Cornelius Casanova: Nah, no way. I'm here to manage Polar, help him out. No way.
Polar nods.
Polar Phantasm: That's ok. I think I know somebody who would be perfect... if you're down, Steve, I'll make the call. You down?
Orbit and Polar pound fists.
Steve Orbit: Shit, you know I got your back. Let's win this thang. But who you thinkin' for a third?
Polar grins.
Fade out.
==
Orbit's Cadillac speeds down the freeway. He's alone with his thoughts.
Damn, it was good to see Polar. I think he just might give me that inspiration I been searchin' for. I felt like a new man after chillin' with him and Cornelius. I mean, workin' with Polar was always a trip, and I feel real good about our chances at Trios, whoever the third man turns out to be. Knowing Polar, he's got a mother fuckin' ace up his sleeve. He always does.
Before all that, though, is Ethan King and the United States title number one contendership. I knew another opportunity would come, I just... didn't think it would be THIS quick. But that's what happens when you spend years to establish your name in this business. That shit doesn't go away, it doesn't stop. I'll always be Steve Orbit, I'll always be a draw.
That's why it burns me up to hear young cats talk about how I'm takin' somebody's spot, how I'm not workin' for mine-- bitch, I was here for three years, week in and week out, stackin' up wins against some of the greatest men and women who ever competed in WCF. Mother fuckers always think their flavor of the week is the best flavor of all time.
I got a special place in my heart for the WCF United States title. I used this belt to put my name on the map. It was my first real championship reign in WCF-- not counting the two brief Television title reigns I had before that, and I broke the record. I BROKE THE RECORD. WCF had been in business for 12, 13 years at that time, and I broke the record for holding the United States title longer than anybody. So yeah, people noticed. I was established. I had arrived, you know what I'm sayin'?
It's time to do it again. Sure, I'd rather be fightin' for the World title-- so would anybody. But I love WCF and I'd be proud to hold and defend any title with the WCF logo on it. Especially one that I, myself, have such a close and personal history with. I'd love to wrap that belt around my waist again, man. Mikey eXtreme, he's been a great champion. Defended against all comers, but he ain't been in the ring with me. I think that's a money match, for real.
Ethan, you're a decent talent. Your group is a joke, but you personally, you got some talent. You got a bright future... but I do mean future. You ain't ready yet. You ain't ready for the United States title and you damn sure ain't ready to step into the ring with Steve Orbit.
I hope you think I'm fallin' off. I hope you just like everybody else, you seen me lose a few matches, and you wonderin' what's the big deal about Steve Orbit. I beg you to underestimate me. I hope you do. I hope you thinkin' you gonna get a big win this week, and a fuckin' win to hang your hat on. "I beat Steve Orbit"... sounds great, don't it?
It's time to snap out that fuckin' dream. I'm comin' for your head this week, Ethan. One of us is going to make a statement this week. It's that type of an opportunity for both of us, and I'll be damned if I'm the guy you make your name off. Instead, this will be another setback for you. Another opportunity where you prove you're just another flash in the pan. You come in with some buzz and expect to roll over Steve Orbit? With a title shot on the line?
Pssh. It's not happening. I'm comin' to Slam, BEATING you, going to Aftermath, BEATING Mikey eX, and using the United States belt to RE establish myself, same way I used it to ESTABLISH myself back in 2012. And on the side, I'ma go into the Trios tournament with MOTHER FUCKING POLAR PHANTASM, and we 'gon take that mother fucker too. Because the time for fuckin' around is over. My eyes are wide fuckin' open.
See you at the arena.
Orbit's car continues down the highway, until we can barely see the tail lights... fade out.
